


Apathy

by Tsume_Yuki



Series: Apathetic Interest [1]
Category: Death Note, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And Someone's Going To End Up In Tears, Apathetic Harry Potter, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Gen Work, If They Weren't So Emotionally Broken, Light Puts On A Good Show, Light and Harry Have a Strange Friendship, Master of Death Harry Potter, Three Fractional People, a strange friendship, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a girl with the powers of a god, but lacking the drive.</p><p>Then there's a boy with all the motivation in the world, and a small notebook to take it on with. </p><p> </p><p>AKA, when Hariel Potter meets Light Yagami.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

  


 

"People are dying."

Located on the fringes of existence, folded somewhere between the fabric of space and tucked neatly into the abyss of time, Death's Plane stretches forwards with long, covetous fingers to cup all of existence within its grasp.

"People are always dying."

A girl rests upon the earth, earth that decays and develops in an endless circle. The laws of matter strain here, extended far and thin to the point were few assert themselves, each one taking it in turns. Gravity remains absent throughout, and curls of red frame an oval face from all angles. The principles of physics amass around the woman, orbiting as if poorly substituted moons.

The being that looms over her, dark and amorphous, lingers. Shapeless limbs reach out and curl upon delicate shoulders, and the entity emits frustration as a candle does light.

"You waste away up here, Master, yet only two mortal years has passed since you joined my domain."

"And you want me to go to another world, to stop the humans from killing one another."

"You speak as if you are not one of them, Master. You will live, and you will breathe, and you will die. Mastery is only a temporary thing."

"A lifetime of infinite power, for a girl who never wanted to be anything more than normal." The girl doesn't chuckle, but it's a close, bitter thing. "I suppose you wish for me to go play hero?"

"My wishes matter not. I am Death, I have no opinion on any sole subject, barring my Master. And my Master should get out more."

Snorting, the young woman stands, and with such a motion the spectrum bends, green eyes burning viridian in the darkness.

"I suppose I can go see what all the fuss is about."

And with that, Hariel Lillian Potter, Master of the Hallows and nineteen year old mortal, returns to a form of earth once more.


	2. The Would-Be Gods

 

 

 

Light Yagami was an honest human being, if only ever with himself.  

Just as importantly, Light was an incredibly intelligent human being, so far above average that he could barely comprehend the struggles of everyday life for the common-man.

Light Yagami was always three steps ahead, with the next four precisely calculated within his mind, with a reserve plan on the off chance that another presented themselves with the slightest bit of intellect, the slightest bit of challenge.

Needless to say, it had been an uncomfortably long time since he had been forced to reach for his secondary plan.

Light understood how the world worked, manipulated it in the same way that chemicals and electrical impulses manipulated the body.

Everything was so commonplace now, so expected and predictable that when he had laid hands upon the Death Note, when he had understood its innate power, he hadn't hesitated.

Yet, even the Death Note came with rules, regulations and laws within which he had to work.

Hence, Light is understandably alarmed that, walking into his bedroom upon the descent of the evening sun, he finds it already occupied.

There's a figure, human in shape and form, stretched out across the once neatly made sheets of his bed, sulphuric red curls flowing over the white mass of pillow.

"I know how it feels," the girl whispers, eyes never leaving from where they stared forlornly up at the carefully painted cream of the ceiling, "the motivation slipping between your fingers like sand. The little voice, always there, always prompting you to wonder if it is really worth it. Why keep up the pretence? Why keep dancing to the expectations of others, right? But then, what's the point in living if you're just on your own, not making an impact on others, on the world? You're just, there."

There's something, unearthly, about this woman.

And it only takes Light a spluttering mind-racing second to realise, for the thought to strike like the lightning that decorates this interloper's face.

Ryuk isn't making any noise.

With a careful glance, Light sees that the Shinigami is just staring at the woman with a disdainfully blank expression. Not a child caught with their hand in the cookie jaw, but prey before predator, criminals before the jury, a sinner before God.

He saw the indifference in this woman though, it wraps around her form more surely than it had once clothed his own. There's an apathy that lingers heavy in her aura, a total disregard for the external world and he ponders what monumental event caused such an mopery to be present.

"Did my mother let you in?"

Light asks, reaching behind himself and sealing them into the room, into the conversation, with a click of the silver lock.

Finally, green eyes flicker over to regard him, greener than anything he's ever seen within a human face before.

Divinity reflects in the sublime colouring, before the girl turns back to staring at the ceiling.

"No. I came because it was recommended to me, but I think I'll stay out of curiosity."

Taking a step away from the door, Light lets his gaze trail all over the woman's form, cataloguing and analysing everything he finds.

She is of average height, with predominately European features; coupled with the accent to her words, it isn't a challenge to tag her as an English native. She is thin, willow thin, with pale long limbs, a trim torso and slender curves.

He is failing to place the material that her clothing is made from, though it appears to be some kind of cross between cotton and silk. A light golden dress, with what seems to be starlight captured within the flaring skirt, covers her form, pallid against the sharp vividness of her hair and eyes.

She doesn't look human though.

Sure, she has taken on the shape, but there's something wrong with the visage. The angles, spectrally, are too crisp, too polished.

When Light looks at this woman, it seems as if all the softness of humanity, the flaws, have been drained from her form, leaving her to become something more, and yet less, all at the same time.

"You'll stay?" Light repeats, mind whirling as it attempts to figure out just what those words imply.

Firstly, he needs to know what this woman is.

Is she human, some form of mutation, a degeneration of humanity that has come out as a superior being, regardless of all forms of logic dictating the result would be otherwise different? She certainly doesn't look like a Shinigami, nor does she act like one.

But his only source regarding that is Ryuk, whom has proven both unreliable and erratic so far.

The woman once again turns her bright eyes upon him, but this time they remain there, assessing him. It's not the same, piercing way that he scoured her form, looking for weaknesses.

Instead, her own eyes scan over him with a blasé curiosity. The rise and fall of her ribcage seems oddly out of place, though Light for the life of him cannot even consider why that is.

Impatience thrums within him, but he remember how he had acted upon meeting Ryuk, so sure that he would be spirited away for using the Death Note. He'd still done it anyway, done it to make a better world.

He won't jump to conclusions here.

This girl, whoever she is, has managed to get into his room without notifying his mother or the neighbours, whom would certainly call had they seen someone shimmying up to climb into their house.

"I can turn invisible, intangible. Much like your Shinigami."

Her Japanese is remarkable fluent, even though her accent seeps through, like plant-sap from a wounded trunk.

"I won't be a problem."

 That, wasn't exactly what he was worried about.

Eyes narrowed, Light walks fully into his room, dropping the book bag at the foot of his bed, his peripheral vision catching how the woman's head turns and follows every movement he makes. Not scared, not cautious, just…

Watching.

Taking a hold of the back of his chair, fingers sinking into the worn plush of the cushion, Light draws it back and away from the desk, dropping onto the seat a second later, sans his usual grace.

Fingers steepling before his face, Light allows his elbows to rest upon his knees as he swings around to watch the woman.

She has, at the very least had the decency to sit herself up now, legs folded neatly with the fabric of her dress covering her thighs.  

"And you are?"

"Human, or so I'm told. Just, more gifted than the rest. My name is Hariel Potter, though everyone just calls me Harry. Like you, I was burdened with a heavy weight of godly power. Unlike you, whom I gather was unaware of such possibilities, I was actively trying to avoid it, and find myself unable to relinquish the consequences."

Her fingers, thin, average length digits, shake slightly as she speaks, hands curled up in the lap of her skirt.

Light just watches her, marvelling over how his life seems to have become home to all the supernatural beings in the universe, when just a week prior they were perfectly normal. Normal, boring, nothing extraordinary ever happening.

This woman, Hariel 'Harry' Potter, twists herself around until she's laid upon her front, head cupped within her arms and mane of wallflower red hair framing her face.

It snatches Light's attention for a moment, because surely the weight of such hair should pull it down to rest upon her shoulders, more so than what it already does anyway.

As she swings her head to look towards Ryuk's frozen form though, he sees the way those curls move, how they sway along with the movement. Much like hair would behave were gravity suddenly excluded from universal forces.

That, coupled with the fact she was currently staring at Ryuk, is a big indication that she is certainly something a little more than human.

"You're not here to stop me then?"

It was perhaps best to just come out with it. There was no point in attempting to deny, the girl was evidentially quite aware of what he had, what he had been using it for. He'd rather know where they stood, how sure his footing was. He had already accepted whatever fate the Shinigami had been planning to unleash upon him.

It appears as if the retribution would be coming from a different source instead.

Hariel fails to answer his question though, for she pulls her attention from Ryuk to stare right back at him.

There is something uncanny in those eyes, and Light realizes that he's failing to get a reading on whatever is going on inside her head.

He's used to reading normal people, people

worn down by the abrasion of life. Never before has he had to read someone with such different life experience, someone so different.

"I just wonder that, if a Death Note had fallen twenty or so years ago, whether the murderer of my parents would have been struck down with a heart attack. Perhaps I wouldn't have grown up an orphan that way."

She doesn't move, but seems to leave the room at the same time, chartreuse greens gleaming, reflecting the edges of the far universe in that second. But then she blinks, and the moment is gone with the small smile that crosses her lips, holding no cheer or sorrow.

"No, I won't interfere. I've never want to play god."  

 

 

 

Hariel, whoever she is, remains in his room, simply observing, much in the same way that Ryuk does. Thankfully, she comes without any  wisecracks.

The Shinigami seems to shake himself free of whatever thought had him entrapped and he begins to taunt Light over how much work he is doing with the Death Note. Not before he had sent a mistrustful glance at the girl though.

So, it seems that there were other beings that could stand against a Shinigami in this world, otherwise Ryuk would not be so cagey as a result of Hariel's presence.

As Light explains how he has to keep up the charade, to make sure that none see through the mask of what he was, to what he is becoming, he watches Hariel's attention drift back over from the ceiling to stare up at him.

The unfocused glaze to her eyes does not demonstrate a stupidity, an imbecility that he would have assumed to shine in another's.

Hariel looks as if she has done nothing but stargaze since her arrival, as if the matter that makes up her dress is simply commonplace to her, another mundane part of life. Whereas to Light, it is perhaps the most magical looking fabric he has ever seen.

There's a twist to her face, one that suggests every star going supernova, every planet crumbling to ashes, every celestial body that springs into existence, is something she has just personally witnessed, but found to fantastical to bother lamenting about.

When it becomes clear that Hariel has something say, Light finishes off his explanation and pushes away from the desk to give her his undivided attention.

It startles her, or at least comes as a surprise, and a single part of the thousand piece puzzle clicks into place.

Hariel Potter is not used to being listened to.

Not the first time she has something to say, anyway.

She finds her composure quite quickly though, or whatever resemblance such a thing has to her.

Light cannot picture we acting this entire thing out, thus, she was perhaps just collecting her thoughts, reorganising them.

The girl gives off a spacey kind of feel, as if she's absent from the room.

Not to gossip or daydream about the latest celebrity to grace the news, but more to contemplate the existence of the universe, and the powers that control it.

"I think that the idea behind what you're doing in commendable. The killing of criminals is certainly far better than mass genocide cause by religious differences or the blood that runs through your veins. But there's a lot of factors to be taken into account. Are these people truly guilty of their crimes or were they falsely imprisonment, perhaps they committed theses crimes under unknown duress, what severity of crime requires a death sentence and what should be repaid with jail time? Where does the line need to be drawn? I think there's a lot of questions that could be asked with this. But I'm not going to be the one to demand an answer."

She sits up, and the biscuits that Light had brought up from dinner float into the air, orbiting an unseen epicentre until Hariel selects one from their cluster and they drop back to the plate.

"When I was actively working against the murderer of my parents, I learnt an uncomfortable amount about his past, and had things been just the slightest bit different, we could have easily swapped places. That, Light Yagami, is what you are here. One side of a coin. Whether you're the morally right side is a matter of opinion and personal beliefs." Her piece spoken, Hariel gives a small nod of her head, rising to her feet for the first time, her unearthly dress falling around her knees.

Light gets to his feet too, cautious over what exactly is about to happen. She stands almost half a foot smaller than him, yet bleeds a presence into the air that seems to make her thrice her size.

"I think I'll go find somewhere to sleep," Hariel murmurs, pawing tiredly at her eyes and for the first time Light registers how rumpled, how exhausted, she looks, "but I'll probably pop up again tomorrow."

And just like that she's gone, not even a wisp left in the spot that was just moments ago occupied by a five foot four being.

And while Light may have gotten used to the looming presence that was Ryuk, there's something unnatural, something eldritch about a human with supernatural powers.

Yet, given how well the Death Note thing is progressing, how his ideal world is starting to shape, he can afford a small amount of time to unraveling this new mystery.


	3. The Human Mask

He's walking home from school with two of his year mates who  happen to live in the same direction, when he spots her.

There's a traditional tea shop on the way home, and within it, Hariel Potter, supernatural being from another dimension and the only other person alive to know of the Death Note, is sat in a terribly uncomfortable looking slouch, cradling a teacup to her bosom as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

The steam rises from the liquid in lethargic spirals, coiling around her face, each wisp teasing a rosy flush to the surface of her pale skin.

The dress woven of stars is gone now, disappearing into the black void from which Hariel herself appeared just the night before.

Instead, she looks alarmingly casual, seated in a pair of skin tight jeans, loosely laced boots and a handmade jumper with a great big 'H' stamped on the front. With her riot of gravity defying curls thrown up in a lazy bun, the crowds only look twice as a result of her exotic colouring.

"Go, she's hot."

Hot isn't exactly a word he would use to describe Hariel. In fact, it is perhaps so far from his first impression it is almost laughable. Amusing, certainly.

No, Hariel is the cold expanse of space and it's beautifully distant stars, all glimmering away in one untouchable package. She was intangible to the common man, and Light doubts that few others would see Hariel for what she really is.

An outlier, an alien in regards to human life, and as apathetic as the Christian God appeared to be.

"What are you doing?"

Hariel drains the last of her tea from the china cup, reverently placing it down upon the accompanying saucer, before she turns her gaze to him with a soft smile.

Given her otherwise sharp features, it's a startling contrast. There's still a distinct lack of emotion there though.

"Trying the tea. It's good, and it's not like I was going to follow you to school. Not only is that quite creepy, but I've had enough schooling for a lifetime in all honesty."

A stray lock of hair that had otherwise been resting by her ear, framing her face, slowly starts to rise instead, and Hariel has to push it back down in an attempt to not draw attention to its gravity defying nature.

It's just another reminder that no matter how like them she can make herself appear, she doesn't belong here. It's evident by the way the laws of physics simply bend around her, instead of engulfing over her and subjecting her to their rules.

"And, this is what you do," Light confirms, glancing over his shoulder to see his two year mates blatantly spying, though how they could consider that covert when they were so incredibly oblivious about it, Light doesn't have the slightest inkling.

Hariel cocks her head back at him, more life to her face than what there was previously, and she gestures with one hand to a chair, while the other signals the waiter over.

"Pull up a chair, you're going to look suspicious to your friends if not."

He doesn't bother to point out that they are most certainly not his friends, how he would never voluntarily seek out their company. He might as well surround himself with fish, for all the riveting conversation that would be offered to him Either way.

No, they are just another part of the façade, the façade of the perfect student. This, this is the first difference they will see.

The gossip will be all over the school soon enough.

'You'll never guess what, but we saw Light with a strange girl; never seen her before, but yeah, she was 'hot'.'

Light nods when the waiter turns to him for confirmation, even though he hasn't heard whatever Hariel has ordered for the two of them. The more time he spends sitting opposite her, the more obvious it becomes that she's different.

Like a supernova turned black hole, she seems to shine blindingly bright, yet sucks in all the light at the exact same moment. She's humanity's ignorance given physical form, their lack of understanding of all that is out there, beyond their immediate reach, wrapped up into one human shaped package.

"So you've spent your day in a tea shop then?"

Light takes the initiative, because it's quite clear that Hariel doesn't know how to start a conversation, and her ability to carry one is close to being just as questionable.

She blinks again at the question, and Light takes the opportunity to inspect the lacework of smooth scarring that stretches across her face. It's intricate, like artwork, spanning down from the crown of her forehead on the left hand side, flaring out across her eyelids and dropping into pinpoint thin strikes just before it reaches the beginning curve of her cheeks. The wound is old, and it's possible to see from the skin that it's been there for years on years.

He can imagine the kind of complex it would give a young girl, growing up with such huge scarring. But, it doesn't quite detract from Hariel's features.

In fact, it only seems to emphasise the brilliance of her eyes, to the point it's almost intimidating. Were he a normal teenager, were he anyone else, perhaps he'd be uncomfortable beneath her seemingly vacant stare.

A glare from her would probably be a sight to see, most certainly.

What caused it? What kind of incident would bring about that kind of scarring? It looks too precise, too fine and delicate to be any kind of accident.

It is quite phenomenal, as far as scarring goes.

"I walked around, saw the gardens," Hariel muses, accepting her second cup of tea from the waiter and Light watches in fascination as, with a graceful flick of her hand, money appears between her fingers and she hands it over. Well, that was no doubt a very useful talent.

His own tea isn't quite what he's used to, he's quick to work out that's because Hariel has asked for traditional English tea. It's not bad, just strange.

"The gardens?" Light repeats numbly. Though, if he were visiting a foreign country, he would see as much of the culture as he could, never mind another world entirely.

It brought forth the question of why Ryuk was so content to watch him go about his daily life. The Shinigami realm had to be in complete disarray, because really, schoolwork was in no way as interesting as other parts of the human world.

"Yes, I am quite looking forwards to seeing the Sakura blossoms." She plans to a stay until spring then?

At the very least, that appears to be the case.

Taking another sip of English tea, Light lets it flow slowly across his tongue, picking up on the sweetness of the sugar and milk within. English tea was so very strange, and he much prefers coffee.

Hariel seems quite content though, a smile of actual, pleasant emotion on her face. He doesn't have the slightest clue where she has been before Japan, but it has markedly been peeling the humanity from her, later by layer.

Even now, with just a day here among real humans, she seems, well to be honest, not a bit closer.

But the mask is a bit more refined.

She's started constructing a new façade, a new personality, with which she can interact with people. Even if no one else seems to notice there's something elementally wrong with Hariel Potter.

"You plan on staying until spring then?" Light asks, cocking his head to a side and carefully placing his teacup back on the saucer.

"I plan on sticking around until there's a decisive end in sight, but if that comes before spring, then yes. I'm sticking around till the cherry blossoms bloom."

She glances around the room, though the way she spoke seems to indicate that she believes this'll be a long game. What game, Light's not even sure.

Does she want to see him succeed, to turn the world into a better place? Or is this just a form of entertainment, in the same way that all his antics amused Ryuk?

He doubt that, Hariel barely seems able to feel amusement, never mind having her go consciously looking for it.

He sees four woman walk into the tea shop and point over at her, gesturing to their own hair, hears one forlornly sigh over the fact their hair would never take to dye well enough to achieve that shade of red. Light highly doubts any kind of human would achieve the sulphuric red that Hariel's curls gleam, as if she'd taken a burning flame and stashed it within each strand.

Judging from the colour of her eyebrows, it was completely natural too.

"How old are you, Hariel? You never did say."

She hums in acknowledgement of the question, taking a look around the store one finally time before she stands.

Feeling out of place, unsure of his footing, is becoming unnervingly common as he talks to her, but Light just can't leave her to rest.

Too many unanswered questions, too many mysteries sit heavy in the air around her.

She pulls on a scarf that had previously been thrown over the back of her chair, and Light promptly picks it out as a copy of the dress from yesterday. The same pale shade of gold, the same stardust sprinkled upon the ends. She wraps it around her thin, pale throat before offering him a carefully practiced smile that never quite reaches her eyes.

"I'm nineteen. I'll turn twenty on the last day in July." How odd.

He can't quite tell if he expected her to be older or younger than that, maybe both, given all the impossibilities that Hariel Potter seems to be made up of. Everything in the world is made of stardust, but with her, it seemed as if the glue has failed, and the Galaxy is creeping out, leaking from between the cracks of her humanity while her eyes glimmer with the nebula.

"My eighteenth is in February," he says instead, when a comment on her appearance fails to make it off his tongue. It feels wrong to point it out, in the same way he would not speak of Ryuk's truly hideous, terrifying appearance.

"I'll get you a good present," Hariel says solemnly, tucking her chin into the sheer gold chiffon of her scarf, "a star if you want it."

Pushing past the ludicrous idea of being given what amounts to a humongous ball of hot gas for his birthday, Light falls into pace with the woman, tucking one hand into the pocket of his trousers.

"What would I do with a star?" Maybe they were used for something different in her culture, or maybe she meant something other than the actual stars in the sky, but Light wasn't about to rule it out either.

"You can do whatever you want with it, it'll be your star, Light."

And she throws her head back, laughing at her truly horrible pun as Ryuk and Light stare in charmed confusion after her. But it was the most emotion he's seen this strange creature exhibit, so he just shares an amused look with Ryuk before catching up to the woman.

"You should come over. If you're going to be around, then it's probably best my mother and Sayu know about it. So they don't freak out if you're in the house."

"Okay."

 

 

 

As it would just so happen, Sayu is taking out the trash up their return home.

Upon spotting him, she grins, waving her hand in greeting before she takes note of Hariel's presence.

Light takes a second to ponder what a sight this strange woman makes stood beside him, what with her hair gleaming a golden red and her eyes too big and bright for her face.

Certainly Sayu, who's never bothered to look to the world beyond Japan, who has lived a sheltered lifestyle and never seen a need one interact with foreigners, would understandably be shocked speechless by her appearance.

Because Hariel's not from England, not the one he knows of anyway. Though she drinks English tea and speaks with an English accent, it's obvious that the dazzle of the universe is rolling through her.

"Mom! Light's brought a girl!"

And she was off, racing back inside with only the flick of her long dark hair beckoning them in.

Hariel blinks beside him, but her lips work up at the corners and she smiles, even as her eyes pinch slightly.

"You have a little sister," she says, as if it were the most surprising thing in the universe, as if Sayu's mere existence had somehow disproven each and every assumption she'd made of him, and now she was having start over  with a clean slate.

"Her name is Sayu," Light helpfully adds, watching as Hariel's eyes narrow slightly in consideration, before they go round with surprise. Because she is actually showing interest in something, she's curious and Light can almost see the waves of emotions, the emotions she's lived so long without, closing up over her head.

She's struggling to surface though, sinking, he can see it in her eyes.

So she ignores the situation, pushes it all back and away as if she can suddenly breath under the  crushing weight of that emotional ocean.

"Right, because not all mass-murderers are lonely orphans, got it."

Light's insides twist at that description, because while some might classify what he's doing as mass murder, others would point out its cleansing society, protection. Cutting out the rot, the mould, the scourge.

He's refining society, clipping the diseased branches before they can infect the trunk.

Yet, in the base facts, it remains murder.

Soiling his own soul though, is a price he's willing to pay to ensure that the world becomes a better place.

"Oh Light! Welcome home," his mother smiles at him from where she's leaning against the back of the sofa, though her eyes go round at the sight of Hariel slipping into the house behind him.

"Mom, this is Hariel Potter, she's on a gap year and decided to come to Japan, I offered to show her around." He can understand why his mother is startled; she's an ordinary house wife with an ordinary house and a seemingly ordinary family.

And Hariel is so, very obviously, not ordinary.

"Hi Mrs Yagami!"

It's like watching a different person. Hariel hops about on one foot, hands tugging insistently at the butter soft leather of her boot in an attempt to prise it from her foot, and Light comes to the stunning realisation that her act is becoming more and more human.

It was as if, upon realising that those closest to Light would be watching with hawk like eyes, she had flicked a switch and become alarmingly human in her every gesture.

Every effortless, otherworldly indication, every graceful, elfin movement became more resistant, more disjointed, more human. Her Japanese becomes thick, her accent glaringly obvious now, whereas it had simply dithered lightly in the air beforehand.

Out of nowhere, Hariel's holding what appears to be some kind of homemade pie in her hands, and the second she's managed to get her other boot off, she's presenting it to his mother.

"I'm not sure how it is over here, but in England it's polite to bring a gift on a first visit."

Light's pretty sure it's not, but given how easily she's distracting his mother, Light lets it happen and instead turns to observing Hariel.

She might have been able to pull the human mask on, slip into the disguise as if it were a second skin, but it's something else entirely to be keeping it on.

Already it's fading, hail hitting a rooftop, creating a small covering before evaporating away, rolling off and exposing what was beneath.

Hariel's slipping, the oil of human form refusing to mix with whatever liquid gold she's made of.

"We're going up to my room now, Mom."

"Will you be staying for dinner Hariel?"

That same deer caught in a headlights expression crosses Hariel's face, and slowly she nods, even if she doesn't seem aware she's doing such a thing. The humanity has all but vanished now, exposing her for what she really is.

"If you'll have me?"

"Mmm, you can tell me how you met Light."

She smiles, and Light finally understands what's going on.

His mother thinks they're dating.

He supposes aesthetically they go together, he's good looking, and Hariel is certainly eye catching in her own right, if only not the same brand of stunning that he is. They're both beautiful examples of two different types of categories.

But he doesn't have time for a relationship right now, certainly not with his role as Kira.

Hariel probably wouldn't have the slightest clue what to do with a relationship, if the way she handles everything else is an indication.

"Of course," and Hariel copies his mother's smile perfectly, rubbing sheepishly at the back of her head and Light sees that the gravity defying curl has been sneakily tucked away into the burning red mass.

"Right, call us when dinner's ready."

"Will do, Light. You two behave!" Were he any other teen, than her attempt to embarrass him would have probably worked.

As it is, he can only roll his eyes trudging up the stairs as the impatience to check on the Death Note, to get to work, rolls through him.

Hariel follows, and nary a sound comes from her footfalls upon the wood.

He slips into his room, Hariel taking up what will clearly become her customary position upon the bed, sitting herself down and pulling her wild hair free of its confines. It springs up, flaring out around her face like a bloodied aureole. It captures his attention for a moment, a reminder of how hair behaved in water, but it isn't weighed down in the slightest, it meets no resistance and flows in accordance with the slightest breeze, the tiniest draft, reacting each time Hariel so much as breathes.

How she's managed to get around town without someone noticing, Light doesn't have the slightest idea.

Pushing the idea of Hariel Potter, supernatural being, away for the moment, Light turns his attention to the computer instead.

He can consider Hariel later.

 

 

 

Of course, then the broadcast happens, and Hariel remains silent throughout the entire thing.

Even as Ryuk laughs and laughs, she remains seated on his bed, face suspiciously blank, but constantly watching him.

"Humans are so, interesting. Don't you agree, Harry?"

Listening to Hariel's preferred nickname come out in Ryuk's gravelly tone, Light swings around to stare at the woman in his room, waiting for her verdict on what has just happened.

Above all, it's perhaps her opinion he seeks regarding these events. She's removed from the situation, a higher power, just a spectator. She doesn't have any attachments, even Ryuk tries goading him, pushing for something more interesting to happen.

Hariel just watches, a silent spectre that offers no advice, neither approves or disapproves, but just states her opinion.

"You say that like I'm not one myself, Ryuk. I certainly don't think you should have killed that Taylor guy right off the bat, Light, the smarter thing would have been to sit back and think things through. By allowing your emotions to get the better of you, by acting rashly, you've kind of shown your as human as everyone else. A God wouldn't have reacted at all, would just continued onwards with their purpose, for that is solely what they're around for. In the same way Ryuk can't make apples grow, Kira shouldn't have attempted to kill, what as far as we know, is a man innocent of serious crimes. It's outside of the regulations you've   set yourself." She pauses here in her speech, and slowly begins to rise off the bed, floating in the air for a second before she lands upon her sock clad feet.

There's an energy pulsating about her, zinging around her form, but it's not quite the excitement that Ryuk freely showcases. Hariel runs a hand through her hair it what could possibly be mistaken for frustration, the red locks whipping out the way.

"I guess you're more than smart enough to handle whatever this 'L' throws your way, you're quite clearly far smarter than me," she murmurs, twisting on heels and falling back down into the plush mattress after a seconds consideration. There's no force behind it, and she drops a lot slower than what gravity dictates she should. Her body doesn't bounce, but her hair does.

Every movement sings with an unnatural falsetto, though on a different timbre to that of Lind L. Taylor and his twitchy, dramatic death. They perform the same song though, one that doesn't belong in the concert hall that his world substitutes as.

"Don't get lost in the madness, Light," Hariel whispers, once again staring up at the ceiling and Light feels, absurdly, that they have once again come full circle. Talking about the series of heart attacks as if he were a piece detached and untouched, not the singular cause.

"If you must continue using the Death Note, know where to draw the line. Otherwise you might just end up tumbling off the cliff."

And that was the end of that conversation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time. Before I started writing this story, I actually didn't like Light as a character. He was only just better than Misa on my list, because while he's an evil ass, at least he's smart about it. It's why I picked him as Harry's companion in this, and note L or one of the Wammy boys. Because I wanted to see how I could handle a character I didn't like. Only, the more I write, the more I think in him, the more I end up liking him. So, so much for that attempt then.


	4. The Squabble Over The Sandpit

 

 

 

His mother manages to wrangle a promise from Hariel to come back the next day, and so she does.

Despite her slight hesitancy at having such an obvious stranger in the house, his mother has become quite enamoured with the strange English girl her son has befriended, even to the point where she asks Hariel if she could have the recipe to make the pie the redhead had presented her with on the first day. Hariel had handed the recipe over without the slightest problem, and had since then proceeded up to his room once again.

Unlike yesterday, she hasn't spoken a word since they met up, and it isn't until he closes his bedroom door that she seems to consider talking.

It's half an hour later, when he's onto his third page of daily justice, that she voices her thoughts.

"I healed a dying boy today."

At that Light does pause, pushing back and away from the desk to get a better look at the young woman sprawled out on his bed.

Ryuk floated above her, and the dissimilarity is startling. Ryuk is the end, a Shinigami, a manifestation of all death and decay in the world.

In contrast, Hariel seems to be a beginning, a being of light, sparkling stardust from the four corners of the universe moulded into something that could only just pass off as human.

Neither are typically beautiful, but both are just as striking, as visually intriguing as the other.

One carries an object of death and disarray wherever he goes, and the other... Apparently heals dying children.

"A dying boy?" Light repeats, fingers threading together as curiosity wells up within his stomach.

He has seen, of course, a small sample of Hariel's powers. The hair that seems to hold its own version of physics, the appearance of money and pies as if they'd always been between her fingers, that disappearing act on the first night.

But there's a significant difference between these little tricks and healing a dying boy, truly healing him.

In a pair of jeans once again, Hariel's thin legs cross behind her back, head cradled in the nest her arms make as her gaze never wavers from his form.

"He got hit by a car, the man drove off without even a backwards glance, and his mother was still around the corner," she pauses, lifting her head from her arms to stare down at her pale, thin fingers, as if they hold the exact reasoning that must have passed through her mind, the thoughts that had spurred her into action.

"It seemed wrong to leave him there."

Was it possible that Hariel's reasoning was as simple as that?

Sitting back in the chair, Light considers what he would do with infinite power, with Hariel's power, were it his own.

Certainly he'd have given up the pretence of the perfect little student.

Would he travel around the world, stopping murders and other crimes? Would he make the world a better place?

Or would he be like Hariel? Without any challenges, without any obstacles and hurdles, would he flounder and stagnate?

Was her depression and apathy as a result of gaining those powers, or was that already there when she became all powerful? How had she drummed up the willpower to go over and heal a dying boy, exposing herself in the process?

Would Light have done that?

He seriously doubted he'd have been anywhere near the boy when he was hit. But would he be able to stand back and do nothing, even if it meant the boy dying, just to not expose himself to the world?

It unnerves him that he can't quite answer that question.

"Are you not planning on hiding your powers then?" He questions, tucking the Death Note into his draw and locking it, done for the day.

Hariel pursed her lips, brows puckering as her mind turns.

It's like witnessing a hurricane, watching Hariel think. There's so much swirling around in that mind, so much unknown to him, and she probably weighs pro and cons that would never even cross his mind. Their exceptionally different backgrounds mean she's probably seen more of the 'real world' than what he has, and while he's incredibly intelligent, Hariel has experience.

"I think I will," Hariel muses, and something like relief untangles the thick chain of dread that'd twisted up in Light's stomach, "otherwise people will come bother you to get at me." She says this as if it is the most distasteful thing she can think of, Ryuk watching the two of them talk in interest.

He knows the Shinigami isn't much for talking, for words, but he seems to appreciate this conversation.

Or, perhaps he too wishes to have a little context when it comes to the third being in this room.

Still, he's quite pleased to know he won't have to share Hariel with the rest of the world.

For Light's alter-ego -tentatively dubbed Kira by the world- was fashioning himself as a god. It is only rational that he surround himself with the very best.

And what could be better than the most intriguing, powerful person he knew?

"Thank you for taking that into consideration," Light muses, flashing the young woman a charming smile.

Her face crumples slightly, confusion blooming to life on her face.

Ryuk gives a choked chuckle, clearly well aware that Hariel was about to throw another curveball into the conversation. Anytime emotion flashed across her face the same thing was going to happen. Hariel was going to make a comment that would have Light sinking into another session of deep consideration.

"Are we friends, Light?" That, wasn't quite what he was expecting.

Hariel wasn't looking at him anymore, staring off into nothingness to watch the the explosions of distant stars. But he knew she was paying attention, waiting for his answer.

In all honesty, Light's never quite experienced friendship. He has his peers, people he can talk to, can work alongside. They eat with him at lunch, and they sit by him in class, but he wouldn't consider himself close to them.

He doesn't consider them friends.

He doesn't sit and talk about the universe with them, doesn't discuss the morality of what Kira is doing, he doesn't just sit in the same room as them and bask in the peace and contentment their presence generates.

But he does with Hariel.

"I suppose so," he murmurs, and how strange a thought it is, to be able to hear the word friend and instantly think of someone.

"I had two best friends once," Hariel confines, eyes settling on a distant supernova that escapes him.

Ryuk looks surprised by Hariel's confession, and Light wonders just what kind of people Hariel would ever consider friends.

"We fought a war, I got my power upgrade, they let the fame go to their heads." A war? And a power upgrade?

Was Hariel implying that she has always had these powers, that only recently they had grown to such extraordinary heights? There were more people like Hariel out there?

If so, he felt incredibly insignificant in the grand scale of things.

As if reading his mind -could she do that?- Hariel's lips twist up in a bitter parody of a smile and her eyes sharpen, though their focus still remains outside of his room.

"It's just me here, I made sure no one could follow, even if I didn't know that's what I was doing at the time."

Well then, the next question was what kind of person would let someone as thought provoking as Hariel escape their grasps? The only answe his mind is coming up with though, is an idiot.

"You know, when you're on one side of the coin, you don't know which way it's going to land. And whichever side it does land on, that's the right side. History is wrote by the victors; take that from someone who landed right side up."

She grins again, this time with the thick tang of heartbreak on her lips before finally she turns her attention back to the present. A twist of her fingers, and she's throwing an apple up to Ryuk, who lets out a delighted cackle at the sight.

"I am quite aware that history's wrote by the victors, you only need to look at the glory of the atomic bomb, the greatness of the British Empire and the romantic ideals of the Romans to know that. We never really get into the horror of all the people they killed, subjected, oppressed. Society changes and adapts to higher powers. It'll be the same when I win the coin toss, they'll come to accept me as normal, that my way is the right way."

Hariel makes a noise in the back of her throat, an acknowledgment of his words, though her own opinion doesn't reflect upon her face.

There's something freeing about Hariel's presence.

She's not something he can control. He highly doubts the Death Note could touch her, otherwise she wouldn't have given him her name and face so freely.

No, if she wanted to turn him in, nothing Light could do would stop her. But, she's happy to sit back and watch him, and while he can't count on her aid, he can count on her not hindering him. He'd have been turned in already, otherwise

To her, it's probably like watching two children squabble over the sandpit.

The results are either way inconsequential; regardless of who wins, something is going to get built. The only difference is what will be constructed in that sandbox.

No wonder she doesn't particularly care.

He just has to get her invested in him; like a parent would instantly believe the other child guilty and shuffle them away from the sandpit.

Nepotism at its finest.

He just needs to twist it to work in his favour, to get Hariel to favour him over her preferred indifference. And the friendship route seems to be working so far.

She's his friend, truly is, but he needs to get to the point where his friendship is more important than remaining her a spectator.

"What is going on in that funny little head of yours?"

Snapping back to the present, Light coils his hands tight into the armrests of his chair upon noticing just how close Hariel had gotten; her large green eyes were less than a foot away from his own, head tilted to a side.

Light had once done a study on eye colour for biology. And he knew eyes that green had to be the rarest genetic mutation in earth, because there should be flecks of yellow or speckles of brown in there.

But there isn't.

Just infinite shades of green, pine and emerald and lime, each as bright as the other.

"I'm thinking, and you are being distracting."

Ryuk snorts, cackling over his head and Hariel offers him a rueful simper, thankfully taking a step back out of his space, taking the overwhelming scents of the Galaxy with her.

"Planning more for the big game, huh, Light?"

Ryuk grins, dancing around Harry and after a second, she offers him another apple pulled from the cavity of the universe only she can access.

"Right, If that is all, I'm going to pop over to England, need anything?"

It takes a second to compute in his mind, the way she casually asks if he needs anything from a country on the other side of the world, as if it were as simple a chore as heading to the local corner shop.

Shaking off his bewilderment as Ryuk requests some English apples, Light runs through a quick list of those closest to him, and cross references them against upcoming birthdays, along with potential holidays.

"If it's not too much trouble, could you pick up some genuine, English chocolate? The expensive stuff? I'll pay you back."

"Don't worry about it," Hariel carefully says, waving her hand back and forth as if to dismiss the thought of her ever needing actual money.

Given the fact she seems capable of creating it from thin air, it is probably a hollow offer.

Still, his pride dictates he at least offer.

"When I get back, would you mind terribly helping me find a therapist? If I'm going to be around people again I should probably deal with the PTSD."

And just like that she was gone, a bomber-plane disappearing behind cloud cover the second after it's cargo was released.

Reeling from the very real possibility that Hariel was suffering from PTSD -and if she was, did her powers lash out in response to her panic? Such a terrifying thought- Light turns to Ryuk.

He's been putting it off for a while now, but really, he needs to know.

"Ryuk."

The Shinigami snaps to alertness, spine straight as he looks down at him.

"Yeah?"

"What exactly is Hariel?"

 

 

 

The Master of Death -the last one there will ever be, according to Ryuk- returns three days later, laden down with English chocolates and all manners of apples.

Light has been bored without her, he realises.

Well, not bored, pre say, but certainly the intrigue and enjoyment has been suspiciously absent as of late. Only the methodological march to victory through Kira had remained, hidden beneath the shroud of his perfect student visage.

The three days Hariel has been in his life so far were the most engaging yet, even given the Death Note's presence.

Her very existence is something he's struggling to wrap his head around; the Death Note at least, came with rules, with a semblance of order.

Hariel is the wildcard in this game of chess, a thing that comes flying in from out of nowhere, pays no attention to the rules and quite frankly, shouldn't be involved in the game at all.

Yet, she has the potential to change everything anyway.

She is beyond his control, but she is also beyond L's control. And as long as things remain that way, Light can cope with that.

He doesn't even realise she's back in the country until there's a knock at his bedroom door, and he opens it to find her standing there.

"You're mum's lovely," Hariel states, flouncing in and dropping the large bag she carries. Chocolates and apples spill out from between the fabric's mouth, and Ryuk is upon them like a starved animal.

Something about her seems, freer than it did the last time they spoke. Not quite like the weight has been lifted from her shoulders, but certainly that there's less to it.

"She let me in and sent me upstairs and I didn't even have to bribe her with pie this time."

She still did though, he can see a few pastry crumbs on the sleeve of her faded jumper. It's another handmade one, in a handsome shade of diluted gold, and a matching 'H' in red branded across the front. It's a little smaller than the previous one, with more signs of wear and tear.

But it's clearly well looked after; Hariel obviously adores it.

"If you keep bringing my mother pie, you're going to have to roll her out of this house soon enough."

Hariel grins, and it's a nervous thing but it's honest. She really does seem happy to be back here.

She jumps up, and the air seems to just catch her, ever so calmly depositing her upon the mattress of his bed and she cracks open one of the chocolate boxes in response.

"Did I miss anything exciting?"

Light rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the Death Note as Ryuk forcibly switches his attention from the apples to the girl.

"Not really. Just a lot of writing, we don't know what L's up to yet. But we do know that it's gonna be fun!"

Hariel frowns, and she comes to rest by his shoulders, looking down at the pages with a frown.

"Light, what kind of crimes lead to death?" She means by the notebook, of course. So few countries have the death penalty these days, but you can find the information out online.

"Murder, for one. Rape, for another." Rape is disgusting, a complete violation of the victim from a human that does not know how to deal with rejection.

There would be no rapists left by the time Light was done.

Only good, honest people.

As if reading his thoughts once again, Hariel leans against the edge of his desk, arms slouching against her body and fingers spilling out across her thighs.

"You can't turn everyone into a good person, Light, no matter how hard you try. Some people are just incapable of changing, but to survive, they'll craft a mask, put it on and dance to the tune. Just until the music stops, but they will dance."

She speaks from experience here, and he wonders who the performer was, who she knew that danced to the music but failed to keep up the act once the song was done and the lights were off.

"It's the same with you, Light. You need a fault in the sequence, a misstep, otherwise interested parties will conclude you're far too invested in the perfect performance. And they'll come looking. It's what weighed down my fellow coin face so that I could land right way up."

All this talk of coins is starting to get irritating, no matter how much sense Hariel makes with it.

"But I'm not perfect. I've fallen in with a foreigner, it's the talk of the classroom. That's teenaged curiosity and enthuses right there."

Hariel doesn't seem to understand how isolated Japan is, simply by its geography. When people come to this country, it's for the scenery, for the history, for the work. Very few actually bother to talk to the locals, and even less befriend them. And Hariel's oddities carry over into him, which is perfect.

It's the misleading flaw in the surface. Like looking for a new mirror, if there's the slightest crack in one, it'll be passed over, turned away in favour of an unbroken piece.

Which is exactly what he wants.

"Have you ever killed anybody, Hariel?"

Light has. Light has killed so many people that it keeps him up at night. He's been cleansing the world, purifying it from all the rotten contamination.

But, in doing so, he's also been infected. He sees the faces of those he's killed on the few occasions he can sleep; he's taken to using some of Sayu's concealer to hide the dark bags that now seem permanently etched into the tender skin beneath his eyes.

But, it's getting easier, or perhaps it's just getting easier to ignore.

Just the other day, he had watched on the news as six year old Aleksey Rovanoff had been reunited with his family in Russia. His kidnapper had been in the process of carting him off to an illegal trafficking ring within China, and had suffered a heart attack in the process.

The police had found a list of names within the truck, of all the associates he knew of, and were in the process of cracking that ring wide open.

The Death Note had influenced the trafficker to write all those names down, and now, Light had the chance to save hundreds of children by offing all those people.

When they called him a killer, they seemed to be overlooking all the lives he was saving with each body on the ground.

"I have."

Hariel's answer barely registers, his thoughts are spinning so fast, but when it does reach the centre of his brain, he snaps to attention to stare at the woman.

He can't quite picture her killing anyone, not in cold blood.

"Are you going to get rid of me too?" Hariel asks, _deaddeaddead_ eyes drifting over to settle on the Death Note.

She's a murderer, there are three murderers in this room.

Ryuk does it to keep living, he needs to in order to survive.

Light does it to ride the world of the infection that weakens it.

And Hariel...

"Why?" He needs to know why.

Though Ryuk had already warned him he would fail to kill Hariel even with the Death Note, that even he as a Shinigami couldn't do it. That the woman was under the protection of a higher power.

He still needs to know her motive though.

"It was war. The head of the opposing fraction wanted to tear down the old regime and implant a new one, in which everyone who was not pure of blood ended up a second class citizen, if not outright sent off to die, simply for who their parents were. He'd already tried offing me once when I was an infant, there was a prophecy that is be the one to stop him, you see? And he kept trying and trying and trying."

Here, Hariel pauses, running a hand through her hair before she thinks better of it and tries scraping it back into a ponytail.

Light is still busy trying to imagine a war between people of Hariel's power, and the thought is terrifying. For as powerful as she is, he does not believe having so many attempts made in your life makes for a healthy psyche.

It really shouldn't be a surprise now, that she wants a therapist.

"And then he put me in a position where it was my life or his. Probably didn't think I'd manage to turn it back in him, but I did. And then I ran and lost almost all my emotions."

She looks down at him, from where she's half perched on the desk beside his chair, and her eyes flash with consideration.

"Don't lose touch with your emotions Light, don't try to become God because gods are too rigid, too set in their ways. Humans evolve and adjust; stay human."

He wants to know more, to understand how despite everything, she has yet to fall into the same cynical pit within which he has made himself home, only prompted by boredom.

But the jiggling of the door handle explodes through the mood like a strike of lightning and his train of thought is broken.

As he starts for the door, he catches Hariel magically shrinking the Death Note, pocketing it, and he grits his teeth as Ryuk speaks.

"Good idea, if any other human touches the note, they'll be able to see me."

It would certainly be nice to know these things before he's put in the situations where such information could be relevant.

"Oh, so that's why you locked the door! Hi Harry!"

Sayu bounces into the room, a booklet of homework clutched tight in her grip and waving at Hariel with her free hand. She had been quick to take up Hariel's nickname, given that it fell off of the tongue with a much greater ease than 'Hariel' itself.

The alien girl is the first of his 'friends' that Sayu has ever taken an interest in.

Then again, Hariel is also the first 'friend' he's ever bothered to bring home before, and certainly she's the first girl he's spoken to for more than one forced occasion, at least before his sister's eyes.

"Hello Sayu," Hariel greets his younger sister with obvious bemusement in her tone, clear quite confused over why this girl would ever be even remotely happy to see her.

"Were you two kissing?"

Ah, of course that's the conclusion Sayu would jump to.

Hariel looks as if she's take a hit to the cranium, blindsided, with wide eyes and lips parted in shock.

She gathers herself quickly though, pushing off and away from the desk to allow the two of them access to it.

"Unless you call deep theoretical discussions the kissing of two minds, then no."

Sayu grins over at Hariel, dropping into her seat and spreading out her homework, which seems notoriously blank of any and all effort.

"Come on, Light! I really need help!"

 

 

 

It's how he spends the next half hour, even though he could complete these equations in his sleep.

But Sayu needs it all explaining to her, because otherwise she'd never learn how to complete them herself. And he did not have time to do ever last piece of homework Sayu brought home.

He has much more important things to fill his time with now.

"Nee, Harry, is your hair natural? It's just, like, super bright."

Hariel lifts her hand to the mass of curls that form a riot of swirling red at the back of her head, patting the ponytail fondly.

"Yeah, it is. My mother had the same hair." He doubts that.

Oh, the shades might have been the same, but it is quite clear the intensity of Hariel's hair has been turned up about seven times too much.

Sayu pauses, as if trying to picture a woman that could ever stand in as Hariel's mother.

Light hasn't missed her wording though.

Her mother had the same hair.

Past tense.

Her mother is dead, and with how uncaringly she spoke of it, she has been dead for a while.

The doorbell rings in that moment, and Light straightens up, Sayu happily declaring that it could be none other than their father returning.

She races for the door, grinning wildly as she goes, and Light turns his attention to the suddenly awkward Hariel.

"I, I think I'm going to go. You haven't seen your dad in a while, and I-" she cuts off, grimacing and stars seem to flare in response to her frustration.

"I'll say I slipped you out the back," Light confirms, watching as Hariel's face lights up ever so slightly.

And just like that she's gone, no sound of flash or indication that she was otherwise there. Not even the snap of displaced air, though he can feel the slightest breeze as it rushes to fill the now open space.

"Tch, looks like Harry's got no idea what to do with family time." Ryuk cackles, and Light rapidly recalls what she had said that first day.

If there had been a Death Note years ago, would the murderer of her parents been a truck down?

Evidentially, the same man she has now admitted to killing, if only in self defence.

Hariel Potter is an orphan and a killer, and Light's head spins as he tries to figure out what to do with this information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It's what weighed down my fellow coin face so that I could land right way up_ Harry is, of course, referring to Tom and Dumbledore there, on the off chance you didn't get that. If Dumbles hadn't seen through Tom's act, Harry wouldn't have eventually known of the Horcruxes, and she's have lost. 
> 
>  
> 
> I dont don't know if I'll be pairing Light and Harry together; right now this is just a friendship thing. Which way Harry's going to swing on the Light v L pendulum, I'm not sure yet. If at all. We'll see.


	5. The Canyon Between Them

 

 

 

"So what's this about a girl then, Light?"

Blinking, Light glances up at his father, who's sat across from him at the table, a tired, but certainly warm smile on his face. His head is still stuffed full of this new information regarding the Kira case, still weighing up the pros and cons of the thousands of plans, plots, and reactions he could prepare.

It takes a second for it to register, but when it does, Light wills a charmed, edging into nervous, smile onto his face.

"Ah, so Mom told you then?"

"Wouldn't stop raving about these pies," he points a chopstick to the dessert sat in pride of place, propped up at the centre of the table.

It must be the one Hariel bribed his mother with earlier, the scent of sweetened cherries filling the air. It doesn't hold any secrets of the universe, doesn't look like anything other than a normal pie.

Only he knows that this pastry was pulled from the endless abyss of nothingness, created from matter and stardust that only Hariel can shape.

It still tastes like any other dessert of its kind, if only a little sweeter, a little sharper, in comparison.

"Yeah, Hariel's a good cook."

His father nods, though Light can see his eyes flash with uncertainty at the name. Even for a foreigner, it's not exactly a common name. Light has performed a search, and found there are only 13 people with the name 'Hariel' in the entire world, and not one of them has the last name 'Potter'.

She has no family connections at all, not that he had been expecting to find any. Hariel walks between the tears in reality, dipping back and forth between the folds of the universe. Family would only tie her down.

"How'd you meet?"

Light blinks, thousands of excuses running through his head before he selects the one that is not quite a lie but has enough to do with the situation it holds an edge of truth.

"I dropped one of my notebooks on the way home, and she was kind enough to return it to me, asked that I be more careful next time."

His mother gives a delighted little giggle. She likes Hariel, that much is evident.

It's also understandable; until you noticed the way the universal spectrum fractured around Hariel, she was incredibly striking with her foreign features and bold colouring. Given that he's never actually shown any genuine interest in another human being before, his mother's obviously pleased he's getting along with someone, actively seeking their company, foreign or not.

His father though, is still looking a bit suspicious. It would probably be a lot worse if Light were female and Hariel male, but given their genders and the not even two year age gap, there's not enough of a hole to poke and pull at in regards to their story.

"I'd like to meet her."

Placing his chopsticks upon the edge of his empty bowl, Light looks up at his dad in surprise.

True it is the first time he's been provided with significant evidence that his son has an actually friend, but he's not in grade school anymore, he doesn't need whatever friends he decides to make vetoed by his parents. so why?

Oh, to make sure she isn't a threat.

How laughable.

Of all the people on the planet right now, Hariel was the one who could cause the most damage with her ability to bend reality, but she was one of the least motivated, least ambitious, human beings he'd ever met.

"Yeah, sure."

His father smiles, but it is an awkward, human expression, and Light wonders how already he is seeing the faults in his species, when it has barely been a week with Hariel in his life.

The abyss pie makes a pleasant dessert though.

 

 

 

 

Returning to his room after helping with the clean up, Light spots a brightly wrapped, obnoxious box resting upon his desk. Approaching it carefully, he hesitantly inspects the tag, before his mouth twitches into a half amused smile.

' _Sorry, almost ran off with this. You should really find somewhere to store it_ '. It wasn't signed, but then again, it didn't really need to be.

Lifting off the top, Light plucks the Death Note out from inside the fluffy packaging, that looks like folds of tissue paper but feels as weightless and soft as cotton candy. It's a startling contrast, an artefact of untold death and destruction sat within the folds of the universe, created by a creature that comes as close to god as Light will probably ever know.

This is what his life has become.

The sole entertainment of a Death God, the sole potential friend to the Master of Death.

There's a strange languor towards his dealings with Hariel. Not that everything she is doesn't fascinate him. It's more that he will never be able to forcibly influence her, she would never bend to his will. He can't trick or threaten her into tracking down L, to leading the detective into a trap, because he holds no leverage over her.

She's not even human, certainly not bound by their laws, the only thing that binds her is her own mind and morals. Command of space and time lays within her hands, and yet she refuses to so much as consider conquering a country. It is not for her, she has no desire to rule or to be an important presence to the people that will always remain beneath her.

Light cannot even begin to imagine how her brain works through that, how she can have all that power at her fingertips and yet not use it, to let the potential wane and waste away.

It's a painful thought but it's not exactly like he can steal all of Hariel's power for himself, nor gain such command over the universe through the same methods. Hariel had mentioned she'd broken the way to become the Master of Death, as temporary as such a title was.

Regardless, she's interesting, so far removed from his life, even from the ideals of Kira, that he can't help but keep her around.

Had she stumbled into his life before the Death Note, then he might not have even picked up the book.

If he had, perhaps he'd have turned it over to her, already hooked on the mystery that was Hariel's existence. She flutters between worlds and dances around stars, slipping in and out of existence as easily as he drew breath.

Yes, mayhap if Hariel had turned up before the Death Note, Kira would have never existed at all.

 

 

 

 

Two days pass before Hariel shows up again, wrapped up in a beautiful winter coat with the star scarf wrapped loosely around her neck.

There's a strangeness to her appearance, and it takes Light a few seconds to realize it is because her curls sit heavy on her shoulders, tumbling down her back, so awkward and human in the way they moved and obeyed gravity Light could do little more than stare.

The two year-mates he was walking home with, different than last time, both raise a brow as Hariel makes her way over, even more so when she wraps one of her hands around his arm. He almost wishes he could stare as well, because this behaviour from Hariel is abnormal enough, to watch her engage in physical contact is so incredibly strange.

She looks more like one of them now, hair gracelessly styled instead of floating and free, a light application of make-up that enhances her more human features, but still fail to draw attention away from the inhuman green of her eyes.

"Hey, still okay with me coming over for dinner?"

She cocks her head to a side, smile lifting up the corner of her lips and it's incredibly strange to see the same expressions of his female classmates on Hariel's face.

"Of course," Light replies automatically, waving his two schoolmates onwards. They take one last glance, clearly quite pleased to be up-to-date on the latest gossip surrounding the two of them, before rounding the corner.

And just like that, Hariel's posture and attitude relaxes into its usual state of being, though her hand still remains tucked between his ribs and biceps. It's strange, her grip is neither too tight nor too light, and neither does she radiate warmth or cold through the sleeves of his jacket.

Humanity is a poor disguise for this woman, but she's slowly picking it up, becoming more and more adapt as she watches and learns.

"I saw a therapist today," Hariel murmurs, and Light briefly recalls researching a suitable human for her vent her problems to.

"How did it go, out interest?" He would have loved to be a fly on the wall to that conversation.

What had Hariel's life been like, how had it led to her becoming a being of ultimate power, as she was now? Did she feel emotional baggage like normal humans, was it condensed? Or was it amplified? Did it affect her powers?

Hariel seemed to believe so, because otherwise she wouldn't have asked after one. Not if she planned on hiding her powers anyway.

"I ended up wiping his memories."

Lips pursing at that idea, Light cocks a questioning eyebrow, wondering if she has ever felt the need to twist and shape his brain. Hariel herself is frowning, so clearly she doesn't appreciate the idea, looking almost shamefaced over the whole situation.

"I got a bit emotional, he was pushing, about talking to get over the deaths of those closest to us, but that's not really how it works. Well, not for me anyway. My magic reacted, and I had to fix the room before I erased myself from his memories."

Light hums, nodding slightly before pushing open the gate to his house.

Hariel pats at his arm once, letting go and stepping back so he may lead the way forwards, seemingly unwilling to intrude through the front door, even if she pops into his room whenever the whim takes her.

"One of my teachers tried to steal my memories once. The end result of a landslide of rock that almost killed him before he ended up stealing all his own memories instead."

Somehow, that fails to surprise Light in the slightest.

"Do you have any documents in this world, Hariel?"

He knows she doesn't, he'd checked all the police records, all the ones he can hack into over in England. There is no Hariel Potter. The redhead blinks, hair slowly rising from the human confines she'd once successfully forced upon it, head tilting to a side as she considers the question.

"I suppose I should get some proof of ID… I'll track down someone who can make that happen later. You said your dad wanted to meet me right?"

She follows him into the hallway, and Light notes that both his mother and Sayu have gone to the shop, helpfully leaving a note of declaration propped up on the hallway cabinet.

"He does, but work is getting busy for him, so he had to go again."

 

 

 

 

It is a strange thing, sitting on the sofa that he is used to sharing with his mother and sister, and instead being accompanied by Hariel. There's a whole seat between them, both of them favouring the arm rests and agreeing that neither wanted their personal space invading.

But while Light sit is a relaxes, casual slouch, Hariel curls in on herself, legs tucked in and under herself, one elbow resting on the arm as her head sits in her hand. Around them, individual chips have risen from their crinkled bags, orbiting the sofa in a bizarre intimidation of an asteroid belt. Though it is rather magnificent how the chips come to him in the exact shape and size as he wants them.

There are some moments when Hariel's powers seem just a little too extraordinary, especially to be used for such trivial things as chip selections.

They sit there, quiet, Hariel's soft, shallow breaths the only sound mingling with his own. Fey green eyes remain focused on the news reporter pedantically, one finger tapping at the side of her cheek and Light waits for a verdict.

They're still talking about the alteration between both L and himself, experts trying and failing in analysing just who and what Kira was. What he wanted, what his goals where, how and why he was doing this.

Hariel sits and stares at the screen long after the news turns to the weather, the tropical storm that's stretching up the eastern coast of Japan reflecting in her face.

"Do you really want to kill this L character?" She finally asks, never once removing her gaze from the screen, and were it not for the fact they were the only ones home, he'd have assumed that it were another speaking.

"...I hesitate to describe it as such, but it appears I've upset you."

Now Hariel does turn to look at him, a tilt to her lips that is in no way a smile. For all that it curves her mouth up, even if it is only ever so slightly, the aura she gives off is better suited to a frown than to that bland grimace.

"I just, if you're set on only killing criminals, I don't understand why he has to die. Even if you oppose one another, surely prison for the loser..."

"You speak as if I won't get the death penalty if I lose."

It's the truth he faces.

If he loses, he will die. L will execute him, with the backing of all the nation heads.

He has become the greatest mass-murderer in history, he'd done the maths. It is only a figure that will continue to rise, and Light laments the fact his sleep is starting to come a little easier.

An international kidnapping-sex ring was broken up by police in America yesterday, from information he had forced a criminal to give. Murderers who had otherwise refused to give the location of their dead victims had been forced to write their final resting places down before they faced death at his hand.

He's helping people, cleaning society and sullying his own soul, all at the same time.

School, school has long since lost its meaning. It's nothing more than a charade, a dance he must complete to excel to the next chapter of the story.

Light Yagami is his cover now, Kira is what he is becoming. A faceless divinity of justice, striking down the unjust and rescuing those that would otherwise be taken advantage of.

There will come a time when the rest of humanity accepts Kira for what he is, an entity given form, a force of nature that they are powerless to stop, as if facing down a volcano or an earthquake. If that will happen in Light's lifespan, he is unsure.

The Death Note kills, it does not grant immortal life, it will not allow him to see the sprawling mass of the future kingdom he is forging. Not even Hariel, the Master of Death, will escape her underlings clutches. It will just not take her before her time upon this earth is complete.

"I regret killing Voldemort," Hariel says instead, though the name means nothing to Light, it can only refer to one thing. The man she killed, her would-be murderer.

Hariel draws her legs up to her chest, thin arms wrapping around them and chin resting in the dip between her knees.

"I wanted him to repent, to see that my way was the right way, that he was wrong."

Now she actually turns to him, green eyes huge and glistening with something otherworldly in the low lighting, a thousand constellations as she looked at him, instead of past and into the chasm of the universe.

"But I suppose this is, after all, your battle. Fight it however you wish."

Light wishes he could say more, wishes he could speak and pull Hariel into a deep, theoretical topic that would no doubt distract him from the monotone of life.

But his mother and Sayu return in that moment, and the conversation becomes lost in the canyons between them.


	6. The Wonderland Resident

 

 

 

"Hey there."

Raye Penber pauses at the voice, the English accent heavy in those Japanese words. Flicking through the magazine section, it allows him to use the overly shiny plastic shelves to glance at the source of the voice.

He'd long since done his homework, on each and every family he was investigating.

As of today, his latest mark was one Yagami Light, a young teen who showed an incredible amount of promise, if his school reports were anything to go by. The teen was perfectly normal in every way, given his ridiculous amount of focus and drive. His grades were good, and he was on good terms with every last one of his classmates.

Yet, the only person he seemed to actively seek the company of, was a young foreign woman exploring Japan. All of her paperwork had checked out when he'd looked it up the previous day.

One Hariel Lillian Potter, born July 31st 1984, orphan. It is quite impossible to miss what exactly has drawn the young Yagami to her; she is eye-catching with that colouring of hers, the kind of natural pull modelling agencies scoured countries for. She has some level of intellect, otherwise Yagami wouldn't have bother with her in the slightest.

But evidentially she does, and for all purposes, they seem to be good friends, youths straddling the line of becoming something more in their years of being wild and free. It's just his job to check that visage over for holes, and poke and prod until he is satisfied in its authenticity. So far though, it all appears to be checking out.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
   
It is quite strange, how much Hariel reminds him of the snow. Or is it the snow reminds him of Hariel?

He had mentioned it would be pleasant to see snow for Christmas despite the unlikelihood, and yet suddenly here it is, fluttering down from the heavens in its engulfing mass. Defying all experts weather predictions as it does so.

The only one who does not look surprised by the snow, is of course, the most likely source.

Hariel has certainly been busy. Not only do frozen flakes of winter fall around her face, but she pays for the bag of anpan with actual money, pulled from the innards of her purse.

A purse with cards and an English drivers license.

It appears she has got her documentation done after all.

Stepping out into the street, Hariel wraps one of her small hands around his arm once again, a gesture that has become common place when they're out and about.

It was upon the second time that this happened, he stumbled across a potential hypothesis as to why Hariel kept exhibiting this behaviour in public. The more crowded the streets, the closer she would press herself.

When the masses began closing in on them, sometimes her breathing would hitch. Only ever so slightly, but it would hitch.

Hariel Potter, Master of Death and supernatural being, did not like crowds.

It was a startlingly realization, and every time she latched onto his arm, anchored herself to the one thing she considered constant, Light was reminded that regardless of the fearless way she faced the sprawling universe, she was still human enough to feel threatened by a crowd. She wasn't as detached from her emotions as what she portrayed, intentional or not.

Hariel could still be influenced, just as he himself could.

There were things out there beyond their control, even for Hariel's seemingly all-reaching powers. Hariel could be influenced, that was already shown in the way she preferred his company than to going out and meeting anyone new.

If he could get her attached, well and truly attached, to him, then there were high chances that she wouldn't just allow him to die.

Might even stage a rescue.

Light's lips twitch up slightly at the very idea of Hariel staging a rescue.

Would she just pop in, grab him and leave?

Or would it end with police officers orbiting the station like asteroids, the cell doors crumbling into the abyss of a black hole?

It's amusing, and part of Light wishes that she had never bothered to hide her powers. Just to see what kind of mayhem she could unleash upon the world.

Pandora's mythical box, given human form.

Even if such an occurrence would destroy his every last hope for humanity.

Perhaps such a thing would drive him to the same levels of apathy as what Hariel showed, Light doesn't know. He isn't too keen on finding out either.

"It's Christmas soon," Hariel murmurs, looking up at the partially cloudy skies. It reflect quite nicely within her eyes, the same sheen that every other set of human eyes takes, but intensified.

Not like Ryuk.

Ryuk, who's bulbous yellow eyes refuse to shine regardless of the light, dull and dead and everything unnatural in the world. The eyes are quite literally the window to the soul.

Hariel's form is something beyond human, the kind of creature birthed from nirvana, so heavenly that poets could not even begin to describe her.

Ryuk's body houses something rotten, something repellent that leeches off of others life force with no regard for the consequences of such actions.

In blatant comparison, the Death God is the epitome decay.

 For all that Ryuk is a being of Death, and Hariel a being above it, such things reflect clamorously within their appearance.

"So it is. Does Christmas hold a great deal of significance for you?"

Hariel blinks, pale throat working as she swallows and her breath curls visibly in the winter chill.

"I didn't have my first Christmas until I was eleven. I got a homemade jumper and I still consider it the greatest Christmas present I ever received, with my father's old cloak coming in a close second. Mainly because there was no reason for the maker of that jumper to create it, and yet she did."

Light is not a particularly materialistic person.

Regardless, he still considers a homemade jumper to be beneath him, and it brings a multitude of questions to mind regarding Hariel's home life before the age of eleven.

The main conclusion he draws from the little hints and remarks she drops, is that it was significantly deprived.

He has already bought a Christmas Present for Hariel, it only seems appropriate. To everyone on the outside, she is his friend, the closest one he has.

In reality, she is a confidant, an impartial party to his game with L, offering advice from her own experiences but refusing to push him in one direction or another.

It was the strangest relationship with another being that he had ever had.

Everyone wanted something from Yagami Light, it was simple fact. His parents wanted him to do them proud, his sister liked to be helped with her homework, his teachers and peers enjoyed the benefits that came with his presence. Even Ryuk only stuck around for his own twisted amusement.

But Hariel, she wanted nothing from him. She could have anything else in the world, Light wasn't so big-headed as to think he was the most interesting thing upon the planet. Hariel could explore the world, the universe, and yet, she chose to spend her time with him.

Flattering, certainly.

Not quite as much as it was mind boggling.

Why him? When there were so many other people more qualified for reminding her of those pesky human emotions?

Never mind aiding Hariel in becoming familiar with those feelings, Light barely understood his own.

He knew how to manipulate them in others, how to overcome the emotions his body felt with the power of thought, but there had always been a certain detachment from the world in general. Something that had only grown as Kira came to power.

Yet, Hariel's extraordinary presence was a constant reminder of what he would become if he lost touch with his human side. A being of substantial power with no real outlet.

He might end up ordering criminals to fetch him expensive chocolates form England before they die, instead of it being for something meaningful.

With Hariel around, forgetting the reason for this, it's becoming harder. It is not so much as he feels something towards the victims of the criminals he kills.

It is more that a ball of discontent sits heavy within his stomach, a disgust for the fact he shares a world with such cretins, who drag down the average by sitting at the bottom of society, as the lingering scum that they are.

Perhaps there is something wrong with him in this sense, mayhap it is not normal to believe such things.

But he can already see how much better the world is becoming. Already, there has been a drop in murders around the world, only a small dip, but enough to link the cause and effect.

It will only grow larger as his shadowed regime expands.

"So your kind celebrate Christmas then?" Light asks, watching as Hariel nods, thumb pressing lightly into the curve of his upper arm.

"We do. It is not as if we aren't human, Light. My kind just had a little something extra. Just, not to the levels I've ended up with."

Humming as they turn onto his street, Hariel releases his arm as the crowds finally disperse.

Whereas the snowflakes that have nestled into his own hair now rest in various stages of slush, Hariel's hair holds hoarfrost, decorating the fire red curls.

Light ruffles them, melting the snow and giving a little more to the illusion of humanity in the process, even as Hariel raises a questioning brow.

"Come on, Mom's making stew today."

 

  
   
Walking into the hallway, he notes the pair of worn loafers that rest by the door.

Hmm, his father is home for the day.

"Mom? Hariel's here again!"

Slipping off his own shoes, Light rolled his eyes as Hariel magiced the boots from her feet, warm woollen socks wriggling up at him in greeting. They're mismatched, one red and one green decorated with delicate looking golden balls that sprout wings.

He swears they flutter from the corner of his eye, never when he pays them his full attention. Flickering movements that make a man question his sanity.

Ryuk is chortling over his shoulder, clearly having taken great pleasure in applying more pressure to Light's current position.

A man is following him.

Not Hariel, but him.

Obviously they have come to suspect those with close connections to the police, but Light for the life of him, cannot even begin to understand why no one sees Hariel as he does.

How could anyone even possibly begin to miss the inhuman grace to her movements, the sharp angles of her every feature? Does no other human possess the slightest hint of observational skills? How can they not note the uncanniness that all but radiates from her form?

Subconsciously they do, it's evident in the way eyes follow Hariel. But none of them seem capable of thinking deeper, of asking that magical question of 'why?'.

"Light."

Snapping to attention at the sound of his father's voice, Light smiles at the man, noting the heavy bags that rested under his eyes.

"Hey Dad, Hariel's come over for tea, is that okay?"

He can see the exact second that Hariel steps into sight on his father's face.

He imagines this is what it is like to see Wonderland. Only, instead of the visiting their world, it is instead one of Wonderland's residents touring their world.

Looking so incredibly out of place, but not to the point of alien.

Just, strange.

"It's nice to meet you, Yagami-san."

Hariel executes an impressive bow, though her curious eyes leave his father's form after mere seconds, turning back to him instead.

Light is well aware he does not share many characteristics with either of his parents, the result of several generations of recessive genes surfacing all at once.

Still, he likes to think there's something of the man in him somewhere though.

"So, this is your friend, Light?"

Nodding at his father's evidentially dazed tone, Light pulls out a chair for Hariel, who stumbles slightly as she goes to sit, the awkwardness of humanity as good a disguise by this point, as a false moustache.

His father hasn't quite noticed, it hasn't quite clicked, but he is certainly unsettled to be Hariel's presence.

Even if she does flash him a charming smile. One that Ryuk happily informs him, was copied from Light himself.

"She does good impressions, Light, she can even smile like a Shinigami too."

Light does not want to see one of Ryuk's creepy, toothy grins stretching across Hariel's face. They're two different ends of the spectrum, ones that should never mix. Ever.

By the time he has returned his attention to the current discussion, Hariel is speaking of the time she spent in Scotland, talking of the beautiful scenery, the sprawling lakes and lazy mountains.

She paints the scene incredibly well, and it's the first time Hariel has spoken about something with a sense of attachment, with longing that lingers in her words, sweet like honey.

This castle in Scotland where she went to school, it is a place she considers home, she loves it, even if she's not quite sure what that emotion is, what it means.

And it is there, with those words, that Light sees her for the human she once was, and not the supernatural being that invaded his room.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Is that all?"

"Yes sir. She's perfectly normal, all her documentation checked out, and when Yagami's not around, she really does just got sight seeing. Quite honestly, it's the Yagami boy and his intelligence that scares me the most."

She's strange.

L doesn't know what exactly it is, but there is something there, lurking behind those bright colours.

He just can't see it.

Like the hairs on his arm standing up, like the discontent that sits within his stomach, he knows intrinsically that something is wrong with that woman.

But the exact detail is escaping him from such a distance.

The girl stares up at him from the image on paper, stood beside Yagami Light with one hand wrapped in the crook of his arm. The body language is all wrong, as are the facial expressions.

This sole photograph is a hindrance, he can't solve this one from afar.

If she has something to do with Kira or not, L is unsure.

But there is something there.

Something that burns in his brain and says there is more to that girl who doesn't look quite right.

Penber hasn't seen it, and that doesn't surprise L in the slightest.

But he's put off by the female, she makes him uncomfortable and he wants to stay away from her. Much like people avoid L whenever he goes out.

Only, such behaviour does not fit Kira's profile.

Kira is sophisticated, smug, taunting, a master of deception.

The girl doesn't feel enough to be Kira, he can see it in her eyes. Logic dictates that the chances of her being Kira are low, lower than most the FBI are looking into.

For now, L will wait, and he will watch.

And he will keep tabs on the owner of those green eyes.


	7. The Sediment of Sugar

 

 

 

 

Do you have those?" Light's head turns to look at Hariel, wondering if she too sees the unavoidable countdown ticking away above his head. The redhead pauses, eyeing the empty space above his head. She blinks, and Light swears emerald flashes ruby, before Hariel gives a witless smile.

"They're jumbled." What?

Beside him, Ryuk snaps to attention, cocking his head to a side and considering Hariel once again. The Shinigami has been, wary, of the woman, for lack of better terminology. Understandable, when confronted with the unmovable object, one that could significantly hurt you. Maybe even kill you. Still, from the sound of Ryuk's voice...

"Hariel's a higher authority, right?" Light asks, looking between the two of them, though he already knows the answer.

Hariel is the Master of Death, and while Ryuk has only given him the bare basics of what that means, it is clear from the way the Shinigami treats her that she vastly outranks him. It's understandable why she can see what he cannot.

"They fluctuate," Hariel states instead of answering his own question, lips pursed and eyes most certainly glowing red as she continues to stare up at his death date, "and I don't know why."

Was his death going to be a result of the Death Note? Was that why it changed? Because if he'd never come across a Death Note, he'd have lived for a different amount of time, as opposed to what he is currently stuck with?

No, that most certainly cannot be right, not with how Ryuk is laughing away under his breath, a sound as scratching as gravel.

"It means there's a chance Harry's gonna interfere with your death. She is after all, the supreme power when it comes to Death itself."

Hariel looks queasy.

Slipping down into his seat, Light stares at the young woman sat across from him, taking note of the thick locks of red that fall before her once again green eyes.

"I didn't want it," she whispers hoarsely, and it is a complete contrast to the almost warm tone she took when speaking to his father, His father likes Hariel, about as well as he could like a stranger, the strangest stranger he's ever going to have met, most probably. She didn't put on the full mask, letting enough of her presence leak through that his father didn't seem to know what to make of her really, other than the fact she seemed to be going somewhere in life.

Light quite agrees.

Hariel could go anywhere she wished, do whatever she wished, and none would be able to stop her. None but herself.

"I've gathered," Light muses, reclining in his chair and watching Hariel rub her fingers against the linen of his bed sheets, "but the point is you do have it. What you need to consider is what you're going to do with these powers."

Green eyes flutter up to look at him, and Light takes a moment to admire their colouring. How strange his life has become, when such vivid colouring is steadily becoming the norm, that his two confidants are as far from human as he has ever known.

It's a step up from entrusting his secrets to a pet that could never speak a word of his wrongdoings, and he's not lowered himself to friendship with those that consider themselves his peers.

No, it remains impossible to hide anything from Ryuk or Hariel, and it is something of a relief.

Hariel has killed a man once upon a time, a man that sought to bring about destruction and death on the same scale as what Nazi Germany had once managed. That was what Light had managed to figure out from her blasé words anyway.

There is no man like that to end right now, instead Light settles upon killing those who would leave a trail of bodies, were they not stuck behind bars. He looks up the Most Wanted of every country, given that the vast majority of them provide names and pictures, it's easy enough to get them to write all their crimes down before killing themselves, leading to the arrest of all those that work with them.

He might never be known as a hero, and there will always be people who disagree with Kira, but he is doing his best for the world. Were he truly evil, than Hariel would have killed him now, would she not?

"What are you gonna do about your little stalker, huh, Light?"

Twisting around to stare at Ryuk, Light considered the Shinigami's point.

Having a watcher, constantly having to look over his shoulder, now that was going to get irritating quite fast. But, Kira was a god. No god would let a non-believer get close to them, allow them to affect them in anyway whatsoever. If he just continues the act, continues onwards with Yagami Light, the perfect student with his perfect life, then they woul eventually lose interest. Quite clearly L and co have realized that Kira has some form of connections within the police, or had some kind of incredible hacking skill. And yes, while Light was smart, he had never before needed to hack into anything; it was an area of knowledge he was sorely lacking in.

Perhaps in a few months, he would fix that clear problem, but until then, he had slightly more important matters to attend to.

"What do I need to do about it? All this man will see is a perfect student with a sudden fixation on the foreign woman exploring Japan. Just a normal teenage boy."

Light gave a slow shrug of his shoulders, Hariel's heavy gaze weighing down upon his shoulders as she considered his words. Her lips were pursed, eyes narrowed slightly even as they shone with, something.

"Still, it would be nice to know just who it is that is following me, how far L's influence stretches."

A plan slowly began to whirl to life within Light's mind, twisting about and forming perfectly. He knew how everyone would react, he knew how everything would happen, there was just one variable.

Looking Hariel over again, Light tapped his fingers against the wooden desk, the Master of Death straightening a bit beneath the pressure of his stare.

"Hariel, how would you feel about a day out?"

It makes sense to take Hariel. Not one had he been spending an obvious amount of time in her company recently, she was also someone with significant power that had a chance at effecting the outcome should something go wrong.

Not to say that she would step in, but he'd rather have someone with a fifty-fifty chance of doing something, rather than a girl that would help him without question but who was completely incapable. The possible-goddess sat upon his bed cocks her head to a side, worrying her lip between her teeth as her eyes dart from him, to Ryuk, and then to the window, staring out into the dark of night that has since set upon the world.

"Okay, I'll come with you."

Light doesn't point out the curious tone of emotion in her voice, instead watching as the girl slowly stood up, shaking her head and sending the weightless curls twisting about.

"I think I should leave, any longer and your father will think I'm corrupting you. And just before the final hurdle of exams as well."

"Right, I'll walk you back, it's what Dad would expect me to do."

The fact that it would look good for his stalker as well went unsaid, but Hariel smiles all the same as she pulls the nebula scarf out of nothingness and wraps it around her neck.

 

* * *

 

  
Ryuk had only ever met two Masters of Death before this one, the final one, came along. How poetic, that they should never be another after the third.

Ignotus Peverell was the first, having collected the three Hallows before deeming them too much of a danger to his family, sending the stick and stone back out into the world.

The wand was found after avenging his brother's murder, the stone, after discovering his brother's body hanging from the rafters. They didn't remain in Ignotus' hands for long, though the man himself remained the Master of Death until he passed on.

He never bothered much with the realm of Death, instead opting to live with his family, in the world that had killed his brothers. He had been a normal human, not power hungry in any way, shape or form, and Ryuk still considers him to have been a bore.

The second one was a Potter too, back in the Wizarding realm's 16th century, back when a descendant of the second brother, Selestine Slytherin, married one Wilhelm Potter, bringing the stone with her.

It was pure coincidence that Wilhelm had duelled for the Elder wand, unknowing what it represented, what it was. The stone left with the couple's little girl as she married into the Gaunt family, the wand was lost in a duel, and the son ended up holding the invisibility cloak.

The second Master of Death had been completely unaware of his title, and as such, was even more of a bore than the one who came before him.

And so time passed, until along came the girl who snapped the Deathstick.

She's the interesting one.

He dropped a Death Note on a whim, looking for entertainment. But damn how it should so happen that Death's latest and last master manages to stumble into the mix as well.

Flying behind the two of them and quite aware of the human follower, Ryuk watches Light and Harry interact with a kind of fascination that he hasn't felt in centuries, not since he'd learnt Death had become bored enough to make a trial to determine itself a Master.

That had been a doozy of a conversation.

Light and Harry stop before a hotel, making plans on where and when to meet up the next day, and Ryuk is once again reminded of why this one human was so interesting.

The plans that spun from his mind, it was wonderful to watch them bloom into being.

"So tomorrow then?" Light asks, reaching out with one hand to capture a lock of Harry's hair. It is quite bright, ironic how the master of all things to do with death and decay should be so bold in her colouring. In the Shinigami realm, she'd be like a sun, blazing before them all.

The green eyed girl looks a little stunned at the fact Light has hold of her hair, eyes trailing across the length of his fingers before she tentatively nods. Oh, how fun it is to watch her reconnect with her human emotions. She's stumbling and so confused and for all of her infinite power, completely useless with her feelings. This is going to be so much fun.

"Yes, tomorrow," Hariel murmurs, watching Light wrap the lock of hair trice around his finger before releasing it.

Then the light of understanding glimmers within her eyes, and Ryuk watches in surprise as she steps forwards and lightly presses her lips to the edge of Light's cheek.

Oh? Wasn't that what humans called a kiss? Was this another ploy?

Oh, how fun.

Ryuk wasn't too sure what they were up to, but if he knew one thing, it was that anything involving these two was bound to provide him with some form of entertainment.

Harry waves with a bemused smile on her face, disappearing into the large building she's staying in and Light turns on heel the second she's through the door.

"So, she kissed you huh? That's a human courtship thing, right? Are you trying to seduce Harry to your side? Because if you break her heart, Death's not gonna be happy."

Oh, Death was far more attached to this Master than he had been the others, but to the point of actually chasing after someone for an offence against her?

Not a chance.

Death would just push her to not waste her life, any kind of emotion that others stirred within her, either pleasant or otherwise, didn't matter to him. Only that his Master felt something.

Light shoots him a glance from the corner of his eye, and Ryuk is reminded of the fact that his entertainment can no longer speak openly to him, not with someone watching his every step, his every move. Still, the words are clear in his gaze.

Whatever that was with Harry, it was just a play, a show put on for the man that shadows their every step.

Oh well, it still seems like all of this was going to be interesting regardless.

 

* * *

 

 

"So, the FBI?" Hariel asks, her arm tucked around his, a familiar comforting weight that he has become accustomed to by now.

The scene on the bus happened just as planned, Hariel reading all of his cues, following his lead and even though she didn't managed to quite pull of scared or terrified, the expression on her face, and her reactions, could easily been mistaken for shock.

Regardless, the man doesn't seem to suspect him at all, and now Light finds himself walking around Space Land with the one person he knows who would actually fit into the theme. Hariel stares at the rollercoasters as if she has never seen anything like them before, brilliant green eyes wide and curious.

"Do you want to go on them?"

He's got a good feeling that Raye Pender of the FBI is in fact, long gone. But it's still good to keep up appearances in case L hacks into the park's cameras.

Humming, Hariel nods, letting him lead her towards the queue as her eyes take in the mass amount of people surrounding them. No one is discussing the hijacking of a bus, the news has yet to reach them. How odd, to be so far away from something.

"He went away," Hariel murmurs from beside him, blissfully ignorant of the blatant stares that a multitude of males are sending her way instead finding the soft fabric of his coat more interesting, "thinking that you were nothing more than a normal, if exceptionally gifted student."

"Oh?" Hariel can read minds? It doesn't surprise him in the least, but it would most certainly have been helpful if he could actually ask her to keep him up to date on things. Well, he could ask, if she'd actually do so, Light didn't have the slightest clue if she would.

"He thought I was weird. Pretty, but weird. He thinks I'm a confusing element and that once you've figured me out you'll move onto a new girl, like all teenagers do." Hariel says this with a perfectly straight face, staring up at the grey sky with her shoulders half-heartedly hunched in her thick coat.

The dark green offsets her bold red hair perfectly, and under the stare of another guy, Light frees his arm from Hariel's grip to instead drape it across her shoulders. She's quite cold, and it's strange to realize that the chill of winter effects her as much as it does him.

"I doubt I'll ever figure you out in all honesty," Light muses.

If he were a brainless bore like the vast majority of people on this earth, maybe he would be infatuated with Hariel. It's certainly true he's fascinated with her, but that's more the concept of what she is, how she came to be the Master of Death.

On the other hand, he does like talking to her, trusting her, as much as someone like him can trust another person. Hariel Potter is most certainly the only person he would ever dare to call a friend, and how incredibly typical that she can barely even pass off as human.

Perhaps he's no better than those fools who claim a dog to be their best friend, even though an animal can in no way provide the right amount of social interaction to achieve a healthy mindset. Hariel is a step up from other humans, never mind a comparison to something as degrading as a pet.

"But that's not too terrible a thing, if it keeps you around."

Hariel blinks, looking up with those unnatural eyes before she glances away, and Light notes the ever so gentle dusting of pink on her cheeks.

Huh.

 

* * *

 

 

"Just two normal young adults?" L repeats the words with disdain lingering in his words.

"Yes, Yagami's son is not suspicious, I don’t believe there is any reason to further investigate the family. He was quite brave actually, ready to attempt taking on the hijacker and protecting the girl, Hariel, when the criminal started hallucinating."

He doesn't like it.

L doesn't like it in the slightest, because his gut is telling him this is the right direction. He'd been listening to all the reports by the FBI, but it was Yagami Light that had caught his attention.

Incredibly smart, certainly Wammy's worthy in any case. It was exactly the kind of intellect that would be required to pull something of this level. Everything until recently seemed to add up to the picture of a bored, overachieving student.

And the girl, the foreigner. L cocks his head to a side, looking at the picture of the two at 'Space Land'.

Stood in a queue, Yagami's arm wrapped around Potter's shoulders, a light pink blush to her scar topped cheeks. Something about the two of them just isn't adding up, even if the equation is coming out with the same answer every time he completes it.

He's missing something, some key component, some significant understanding of how to solve the problem.

And it grates, to know that he is in fact missing something, that he just can't quite figure out what is so wrong with the picture.

"L?" Penber questions cautiously on the other end of the line, and L forces himself to focus on the current conversation.

"That is all Penber."

The FBI are evidently going to be useless here. Either Kira has failed to discover them -doubtful, oh so very doubtful- or he wasn't taking the bait that they offered themselves up as.

He wasn't biting, apathetic.

What had happened to the creature that responded to the slightest taunt just over a fortnight ago? Discovering a following by the FBI should have set him off, there should be threats, more dead criminals, or even, dead FBI agents.

But there wasn't.

Was Kira just taking his time to kill off the FBI agents? Or was he truly ignorant of their presence?

Turning back to the third and final note, L found his teeth gritting together as he completed the sentence, the sediment of sugar that sat in his molars grinding beneath the pressure.

 

 

 

 

' _L, do you know, starlight can be trapped, in human form?_ '

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are they friends? Yes. Will Light and Harry ever be something more, I haven't got a clue. I still don't know who's side she's going to be falling on, but it's not going to be long until Hariel and L actually met. So, I'm excited to write about that.


	8. The Little Star Turais

 

 

 

 

Hariel's stood at the door, wrapped up in a thick winter jacket with matching scarf and with a bag full of brightly wrapped presents tucked under her arm, which she carries as if they were weightless.

"I figured I wouldn't intrude on actual Christmas," she murmured, running a hand through her hair and looking around with her atypical spacey-eyes.

Were it anyone other than Hariel, Light would have assumed the owner of such out of focus eyes were on some form of neurotic drug, a human that had wanted to escape the harsh reality of life and drop off into the subconscious, into an infinite expanse of possibilities that were introuvable within the real world.

Hariel was different in this respect, seeing as it had taken no drugs whatsoever to have her become physically removed from that which made them human.

Oh, she used her brain like them, she thought, questioned life and all that was happening in her general vicinity.

But she seemed to walk right through the whole experience unscratched, untouched by the vast array of all that was occurring. Like a ghost or spectre, she was present, but ultimately unchanged.

Light wishes he could change that. He wishes to see what Hariel was like without the aspect of inhumanity that seemed to cling to her tighter than anything else. How she had been, before she'd transformed into her present self.

Pushing open the door, Light takes a step back, allowing Hariel entry to the house. Her shoes disappear into nothingness, leaving lions dancing across the fabric of her socks.

Upon noticing his gaze, Hariel smiles slightly, not quite bashful but perhaps a tad sheepish. The lions stop moving.

Leading the young woman into the living room, Light takes a moment to nod to his mother, who's smile brightens at the sight of Hariel. She's still inordinately pleased that he's taken so very well to another person.

And really, Light would challenge any other human being who would state their disinterest in Hariel. She's a being of incredibly potent cosmic power, barely leashed in a half-hearted disguise of human form. She would never fail to captivate another, if only the ignorant idiots could actually see what walked among them.

But that was okay.

As they all walk past Hariel in the street, unseeing of the being that held the whole universe within her fingertips, that just meant everything about her, every little bit of knowledge and every little secret he teases from her, it all belongs to him.

No one else in this world knows Hariel like he does, not even Ryuk, who's intelligence cannot be compared against his own. Hariel Potter, Master of Death, is his own friend.

And he is hers.

"I bought you both Christmas presents."

The sound of Hariel's voice, it's almost warm tone, draws Light back from his thoughts, forcing him to focus on the girl that stares between himself and Sayu with a nervous tilt to her lips.

Little shows of emotions are starting to leak through, that spring of feelings long thought to have dried up slowly starting to run again.

Only, Hariel's face is comparable to cracked, dry earth; it'll take a lot more time for the damage to be undone, for things to grow and bloom again.

"Nee?! You did!" Sayu comes bouncing over, dark hair fluttering about around her face as she skids to a halt before the Englishwoman, smiling widely.

"Thank you so much Harry-nee!"

Hariel falters slightly at the address, but Light's the only one to catch it, given that his sister is far more occupied with the lumpy package she has just accepted.

His present is of a similar size, shape and consistency as what Sayu has received, and Light sets it to rest atop his legs while watching Sayu open hers first.

Cautiously, Hariel takes a seat beside him, wide green eyes still looking incredibly confused. He remembers that her parents were killed when she was young, very young, so evidentially she's never had to deal with a younger sibling before.

At least, not such an enthusiastic one as Sayu, who gives her love far too freely and dares others to steal the heart she wears upon her sleeve.

An exceptionally warm looking red woollen jumper emerges from the golden wrapping paper, Sayu's name ever so carefully features on the bottom of the hem, barely the side and length of her little finger.

"So soft! And warm!" Sayu presses her face into the material, inhaling deeply and Light forces himself not to cringe at her behaviour. "And it smells like Passion Fruit!"

She laughs, and something silver and shiny falls out as she unfold the fabric.

On instinct, Hariel's hand snaps out and catches it, with a speed and accuracy that surprises him.

Huh.

Hariel hands what appears to be a small silver bracelet, the second part of her gift, back to Sayu, who coos over the adorable little charms, repeatedly thanking the redhead.

Slowly, Light peels back the wrapping paper of his own present, not at all surprised to see a jumper of his own, in a fetching shade of cream with his name in the exact same place, but presented in a careful shade of muted red.

Oddly enough, his too gave off a distinctive scent, but not one that he recognised. Something cold and sharp, that made his consider the expanse of the galaxy and the dazzling light of a thousand stars.

As with Sayu, there was another item hidden within the crevasse of his jumper, and his fingers came into contact with a cool glass orb.

Pulling the item free from the fabric, Light raised his eyebrows at the sight before him, glancing up to find that Sayu had puttered off to the kitchen.

On a thin leather cord, a small clear orb sat, failing to differ much from the glass baubles that belonged on the Christmas tree.

Inside that small sphere however, sat a sole ember of glowing white light, bright and gleaming, even when he cupped the miniature decoration between his fingers.

"It's Turais."

Looking up at the female on the sofa, Light let his eyes dancing back to the tiny little light in his fingertips, not quite sure if that was supposed to mean something to him.

"Ah, the Rho Puppis, from the Puppis constellation."

"From the Puppis const- wait, do you mean the actual star? You took an actual star from the sky?!"

Light's eyes snap back to Hariel, wavering over if he wants to stare at this woman ludicrously, or focus on the fact he is actually holding a real star within his hands.

Is she serious?

But then again, Hariel is not particularly known for making jokes…

"I had to dim it down a bit, so it wouldn't blind you, and the glass wont' break either… I don't think anyone will really be concerned about one missing star, and it's not like they're going to believe a teenager has it around his neck."

That is a very good point, but regardless.

There would certainly be a hell of a lot of talk over why a star had suddenly disappeared from the night's sky without any sort of warning.

And, and Hariel had gifted him a genuine star. One that he can actually wear like a piece of jewellery and that in itself is completely and utterly ridiculous.

"It's a good luck charm too," Hariel murmurs, looking distinctively uncomfortable now, eyes darting nervously to the door and studiously ignoring Ryuk's maniac laughter as he floats above their heads.

A present shaped suspiciously like an extraordinarily big apple appears in her hands for a second, before it is snatched away by the Shinigami, leaving just the two of them in the room.

Just him, the Master of Death and a star plucked from its constellation.

How is this his life right now?

"Well," Light begins, uncomfortable himself and not at all sure what to make of the current situation, "I got you something too, but it's nothing impressive."

Certainly not when he'd been given a star.

Was there a specific reason why he'd gotten this particular star? Turais, did she say it was? He'll have to look it up when she leaves.

Hariel gratefully accepts the present anyway, and Light is struck with the realization that this is perhaps the only present Hariel will receive this Christmas. Earrings, tiny green emeralds that had reminded Light of the redhead when he'd seen them.

And really, she's the only person he's ever gone to buy a gift for personally; his mother always got his childhood playmates gifts a decade ago, and he's never really been close enough to anyone else to bother.

Now, he watches as Hariel carefully puts the earrings on, smiling before she disappears into thin air.

 

 

 

It only takes him three minutes to get results, and Light finds himself sat on his bed, cradling the little star Turais between his fingers and letting it light his palms, wondering if there was a hidden meaning to it at all.

 

* * *

 

When the woman, Hariel Potter, walks into the café, L instantly realizes that cameras have done her no justice whatsoever.

She does not look normal.

Like the highly edited photographs of famous models, her eyes are just a tad too large, skin tone just a bit too off, hair way too bright.

Only, those are features she actually has, instead of being digitally altered to such proportions.

There's something about her skin that just, shimmers, so to speak. Not from any form of product, nor from a light sheen of sweat, despite the abundance of fabric she's wrapped up in. It's not natural, nor is it a trick of the lighting because no other person has exhibited such a trait since walking in.

There is something, something off, about this girl. He's pleased, because this means his gut instinct was right.

There is something that doesn't quite fit, that doesn't slot into place here, and if it is not Yagami Light, then Hariel Potter most certainly has something to do with it.

Head tilting to a side, L considers the woman as she walks up to the counter, barely even aware of the waitress that is place the third chocolate cake of the day upon the table.

His laptop is out, but the screen is occupied with a case in thick Wammy's code; no one outside of Wammy's House would be able to read that information without several days of effort. And that was in the case of those with higher than average intelligence.

"The woman, with the red hair," L snaps out, the waitress jumping half a foot in the air as he forcibly captures her attention, "add whatever she buys to my bill."

A character test, to see what she does.

It doesn't matter that the waitress is giving him a startled, cautious look.

Of course, he doesn't exactly appear to be the upper crust of society -ha, if only they knew- and L is well aware that his appearance is incredibly off-putting.

No doubt the waitress thinks him some kind of creep attempting to use his money to force a woman's company upon himself. No, L has no need for company.

What he desires, is answers.

He wants to know why the woman's physical appearance draws all of his attention, when others instinctively shy away from her. L sits back, watching as the waitress whispers to the cashier, who seems just as uncomfortable but complies with his request regardless.

He sees the moment that they inform Miss Hariel Potter of her prepaid for order, and he watches as the redhead questions the staff, who direct her over to his table. A normal woman of Miss Potter's age would cringe at the sight of him, or flinch, or flee.

Certainly she wouldn't thank the staff and make her way over, one slice of treacle tart in hand and a mug of steaming English tea in the other.

L don't tense, pre say, but he does righten himself over so slightly, toes curling tight on the edge of the leather chair, the low table housing his dessert offering little shelter.

She doesn't look too much like a fighter.

Potter's coat is absent now, folded neatly over one lights muscled arm, nothing more than a vain civilian? Or someone who considers healthy living important.

Not like L. He needs the sugar, his deductive reasoning would plummet without it.

"Hello, would you care for some company?" She asks in fluent Japanese, though her accent sits thick in the words that flow from her mouth.

"I don't particularly care for company, but please do tand a seat."

Hariel Potter frowns, eyebrows knitting together as if trying to puzzle out the meaning of his words, before she slowly smiles upon realising he was speaking in English.

Her plate goes down on the table with a muffled clatter, tea following before she slides into the seat opposite him.

She remains quiet from there, simply sitting and enjoying her tea and tart, looking on curiously as L goes about typing relevant requests out for his latest side-case, and systematically ploughs through his latest cake.

She's not completely intolerable company, certainly she knows when to keep her mouth shut, that much is clearly evident.

 

It remains silent until L has completed typing, leaning back from the laptop and gesturing for the waitress to replace his completed cake. Strawberry cheesecake is placed upon the table top, and Potter's eyebrows -as bright and red as her hair- rise in surprise.

She doesn't comment on it though, sitting back and ordering a second tea.

Instead, she opens with a carefully curious, "you speak English?"

"I speak a vast array of languages, English being one of the most commonly used."

The girl nods, accepting this without digging any further, instead plopping the last of the treacle tart between her lips and L takes this opportunity to stare at the girl again.

She does not look normal.

Human, certainly, and quite blatantly female.

But there's something crucial missing, some basic component that is present in all that he has passed by before appears absent from Hariel Potter.

She doesn't quake under his heavy stare, instead gazing right back, eyes sweeping over his form and taking in plenty, though what conclusions she draws, L doesn't have the slightest clue.

Her eyes flicker up to stare somewhere above L's head, though when he checks in the reflection of the laptop screen, there is nothing of interest behind him.

It seems that she won't be the one to a start a conversation, which is, awkward. L has never really cared to partake in the pleasantries known as 'small talk', nor does he have any wish to.

But, he is here to get a reading on Potter, which seems more and more unlikely as time passes.

She puts people off, he belatedly realises. Plenty of people have glanced over at them, and they cringe away from them both. How strange.

"It is Christmas Eve," L opens with, catching Potter nod slightly into her new tea, her lips never quivering, "and you are spending it alone."

"It's not like I've got anyone to spend the day with, it's suppose to be a day for family, and I'm an orphan. My friend offered to let me celebrate with him, but I felt like I was intruding I guess." Yagami Light then.

L hums in the back of his throat, turning his attention back to the laptop when Potter didn't bother to continue down that topic of conversation.

That is how they spend the rest of their time together, neither exchanging so much as a name, just sat enjoying tea and cake until the waitress approaches and proclaims the cafe will be closing in mere moments.

Potter stands up, and L is struck silent for a moment by the sheer grace of the motion.

There was nothing awkward about the flow of movement, but neither was there anything to indicate the poise of a dancer.

"Thank you for the company," Potter says in English, dipping her head as she half heartedly curtsies.

L watches her walk for the door, only really sure on one thing.

That woman is not Kira.

She was too detached, too apathetic in regards to all that was happening around her. Untouched by the madness of Kira, that much was evident, given that she never once tried to start a conversation upon it.

No, Kira was invested in the betterment of the world.

Hariel Potter, she didn't care for it. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

 

 

 

"I met L last week."

"You met who."

Light's voice scorches as he speaks, even in this low whisper. It burns up his throat and brings pain he's not expected to feel, pain he has never felt before.

Was this betrayal? Was this what it felt like?

He wouldn't know, he'd never gotten close enough to another to feel such a thing before.

It seems light years away now, when in fact it was mere minutes ago that they were discussing the FBI's continued existence. Hariel had just made so much sense, regarding Kira's godhood and his refusal to deviate from his set standards.

That, and it confused L.

He could see now, it had been a pressure move. Risky, on L's part, to put the lives of those FBI agents on the line, to march them before Kira's firing line, hopeful that they'd get a glimpse of him, even with the high probability that they'd be shot.

But it had failed.

Hariel's short rant, for what else could it have been if not a rant, had cured him of the need to kill those FBI agents. That had brought with it a stint of self doubt.

Was he losing himself, getting lost in this power, this grandness that was Kira and his mission? At what point had he stopped being Light and just solely become Kira?

The realization had been deeply unsettling, and even now, it still lingers, a haunting thought sat in the back of his mind and a constant reminder of his almost Icarian fall from grace. He was not Kira, not completely anyway.

He was also Yagami Light, best student in all of Japan, and Hariel Potter's only friend.

There are some nights, in which he lies away, staring up at the ceiling and wondering just how things would have turned out without Hariel around to talk to. The sheer amount of pressure that would have sat upon his shoulders, that would have been present had he no one to confined in.

Had Hariel not been there to talk with, there's a large probability that arielhe would have killed those FBI agents. Light is honest, if only ever with himself.

He knows without Hariel Raye Penber and however many other agents there were, they all would have died beneath his pen, one way or another. Knowing his luck, L would have found a way to trace it all back to him too. Yes, this was certainly for the best.

Now L had no leads, and the agent following him would have seen nothing other than the almost-perfect student façade.

Just Yagami Light, who was good friends with the visiting foreigner, Hariel Potter.

There is no innocent bodies that lay within the trail of his conquest, there will be no hollowed victory here. To the general populous, Kira would be perfection, the god of a new world.

To himself, Hariel and Ryuk, Kira was nothing more than a stagename, a puppetshow that could be packed away at a moment's notice.

It wasn't his life.

For a moment, the water had closed in, had come together over his head and Light had been left gasping for breath, for air that wasn't there.

But then Hariel head reached in, had pulled him back to the surface and Light would not let himself slip again. Never again. He trusts Hariel.

Which is why it is so hard to hear those words come from her mouth.

 

 

 

She's sat on his bed again, having previously been flicking through one of Sayu's useless music magazines with an exceedingly dethatched sense of interest. Now she had straightened under his gaze, head up ever so slightly that she was almost baring her neck to him, green eyes wide and confused.

Of course she doesn't understand, of course she doesn't get it.

But L approaching Hariel, it hits a little too close to home for him to feel comfortable with. Even if L's not closing in on his identify as Kira, and has in fact seen Hariel for what she really is.

Light doesn't like the implications of either one.

"When."

"Christmas Eve." So not even a day had passed since she saw him and then L.

He doesn't understand why she didn't tell him sooner, and when Light asks this question, the goddess in his room just stares back in confusion. She doesn't understand why he wants to be informed that his greatest rival has been in the area, that he has made contact with her.

Light feels his fingers curl into fists, feels himself almost trembling with rage, but he can't stop himself.

"Did you get his name?"

It takes a lot to talk evenly, even more so when he sees the uncomprehending, lost look on her face.

Right now, Light has no patience to deal with Hariel's inability to connect with her emotions, she's made too little progress on that front for him to really care to break this to her gently.

But, if he can get L's name, he can look up records, though he highly doubts there will be any to find. That would be an idiotic move for the detective, and Light does not believe this will yield any results whatsoever.

Still, it is best to cover all of his bases.

Only, Hariel looks at him with sad eyes, a genuine frown on her face.

"No, I won't… This is your fight, Light, one side of the coin or the other. I won't, I can't step into it again."

She shakes her head, and for a second, Light sees the scars. He sees the damage -the deep, soul scarring damage- that Hariel's own battle has cost her.

Worse, she didn't choose that life. She was thrown into it.

He, L and Hariel's nameless adversary, they had all picked this. They had all strove to shape society into their own image.

The woman opposite him would have just been content with a family and friends. The boring life Light had all but detested.

They're so very different in this respect, and if Light were in a better frame of mind, he would have enjoyed pondering over this.

Instead, he focuses on keeping the rage from seeping into his voice.

"Get out." And she goes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once Light has managed to remind himself of the fact Hariel had never actually agreed to take his side, that he shouldn't have gotten his expectations up -that he shouldn't have got close, should not have opened up no matter how fascinating she had been- he realises he has no way to really contact Hariel again.

She doesn't respond to the texts he sends, and for a moment -it was much longer than a moment, but Light would never admit it, ever- he sincerely believes that she will never come back. But then he remembers he is the only person she truly knows in this world, both he and Ryuk, and he comforts himself with the knowledge that she will return.

Eventually.

She would come back.

Hariel wouldn't just leave him, he might not understand her, but he knows she won't abandon him. Sitting in his room, post Death Note session, he toys with Turais that rests a little below the joining of his collarbones, a solid, comforting weight.

And he reminds himself that Hariel will come back.

 

 

 

As always, he proves to be right here too, for three days after their fight, he spots her on the way home from school, which has started up once again.

She's stood at the mouth of his street, looking towards his house with a clearly hesitant expression on her face, and a longing in her eyes.

She misses him, Light realises, and it's in that moment he knows with deep sated certainty that Hariel considers him a friend too. Friends are suppose to have fights, is that not right?

For surely if Hariel was the exact same as he was, then he would never be able to put up with her. Light knows himself well enough to admit he could never get along with himself. It is a good thing that there is only one of him.

Since coming to this conclusion years ago, Light had wondered if really the other people weren't the problem, if he was the problem. Surely if he never truly got along with anyone, than it was instead he who was the outlier?

Even now, with Hariel the only person that he would consider a friend, that still makes her an outlier. The only one of the masses.

But, it also means that he is not as fault as he had once thought.

A secret relief he would never admit to out loud.

The Master of Death certainly doesn't look as good as she probably should, with thick fake smudges sitting beneath the curve of her green eyes, and the freckle-like stars far more apparent when he considers that pallor of her skin.

"Hariel?"

The stark hope present in her eyes takes Light back a bit, even more so when she sucks in a breath and glances up at him. Hariel, she doesn't get nervous, not like this.

"Light?"

"I'm not happy, but I know you don't want to get too involved with this," Light murmurs, "so can we ignore that and go back to how we were?"

The 'I miss it' hangs heavy in the air, weighty and unsaid. From Hariel's uncommonly expressive face, she's in the same boat.

Swallowing she nods, reaching out to take hold of his arm as usual before jerkily halting the motion halfway through. Light meets her though, before she can lower her hand, and curls it into the crook his arm as usual.

And it's almost like things are back to normal.

"Hehe, there's cameras all over Light's house now. Isn't that entertaining?"

Entertaining isn't exactly the word Light would use, but he is thankful that Ryuk took the opportunity to tell Hariel about this problem.

It's been a day since he discovered his room, the entire house actually, had been bugged. Light doesn't know exactly why it's happening, but he can take a guess.

He's not exactly hubris enough to imagine L isn't suspicious of him. He is, after all, known to be incredibly smart. Just for that alone, the detective would be watching him. It makes sense, no matter how much it grates.

Now that Hariel is informed though, there won't be any supernatural occurrences to worry about on her end. Though evidentially she can't quite help looking like the invisible strands of the universe are dancing across her skin. The glow just doesn't leave.

Turais feels warm around his neck, and Light adjusts the leather cord that rests beneath his shirt out of habit.

 

 

 

He lets the both of them into the house, noting that the front door is locked and indicating that no one is home.

It's an oddity, usually his mother would be getting the evening meal ready by now. It was the same yesterday when he first noticed the cameras, and for a moment, Light wonders if L has managed to manipulate things so that his mother isn't present.

Frowning, Light makes his way up the stairs, well aware of Hariel's presence at his back.

He wonders how much of her the cameras manage to capture, if they can even record the unearthly quality that bleeds out from every inch of her skin, that hides in the tight curls of fire red hair. He wonders if the universe reflects in her captured image the same way it does in person.

He knows that the lens will capture each unnaturally graceful movement, each physical outlier that makes it even more glaringly obvious that Hariel Potter is not entirely human, but instead something more, something greater.

How L hadn't looked at her and seen something beyond what any other person possesses, Light doesn’t know.

Or maybe the detective did, maybe he saw it but was unable to recognise it for what it was.

After all, Light didn't know himself until Ryuk gave her a title. The Master of Death. Such an imposing appellation.

What the others on the investigation team see, Light's curious about that too.

Would they be like he and L, or would they be another handful from the clueless masses?

Regardless, he is a young adult, leading an equally attractive young adult up to his room. He's already got a pretty good idea of what both L and his father are expecting to happen, which will probably be two very different things.

And as he's already taken care of Kira's daily serving of justice, Light's going to be giving them something a little different to chew on.

 

* * *

 

 

"So this is the mysterious Hariel Potter," L muses, teeth digging into the pliable curve of his nail. Sugar granules lingered on the pad of his thumb, and L dipped his tongue upon the surface, gathering the whole lot up.

Beside him, Matsuda and Chief Yagami sat, each just as fixated upon the girl. While he knows Chief Yagami was once introduced to the woman, had sat down to dinner at the same table, L has the distinct impression that the man didn't come to the correct conclusion about his son's new friend.

Hariel Potter doesn't fit.

She doesn't  fit into this case, has no business being here. She is distracting his most likely suspect. Out of all the people the FBI had investigated, Yagami Light has the greatest chance of being Kira. The sheer amount of intellect the boy displays is more than enough to ping on L's radar, but the fact the boy has moulded himself into a perfect life, a show and dance of the perfect student, it rings warning bells.

Yet, Hariel Potter had come along and ruined it all.

She had not been what he had expected, when they had met that cold night on Christmas Eve. She had spoken to him without allowing his physical appearance to infringe on their conversation, suggesting that she was used to out of the norm characters. She hadn't balked at the amount he was eating, and had been pleasant enough.

Certainly, she is not easily unsettled.

But that is obvious by the skin upon her left hand.

' _I must not tell lies_ ', carved in silver scars upon the back of her hand, glittering a inch or so beneath her knuckles. That is not something that anyone with a healthy mind state would etch into their skin.

Potter gives no signs to show a past psychotic break, which means that perhaps the scars have not been self inflicted. There is nothing regarding the odd scarring within her records, and nor does she rub obnoxiously at the markings. Old wounds, old wounds with no lead.

How irritating.

Looking back on the screen, L raises a sole eyebrow when the young male lays himself alongside Hariel Potter, pillowing his head upon her outstretched arm.

The female pauses too, looking over at her companion with a curious tilt to her lips. L ignores the Chief beside him, instead turning the sensitivity of the microphones up.

"Are you still undecided upon your stance regarding Kira?"

Light asks, and L can barely believe the two are about to touch upon the topic.

Does Yagami know about the cameras? It would seem so, but at the same time, why toe so dangerously close to the line when he doesn't have to?

"I'm already decided, I'm not taking sides," Hariel Potter murmurs, eyes unseeing as they stare up at the ceiling, almost directly at a camera.

L would swear she knows of their presence, only she never once gives the indication, never once acknowledges their existence.

No, her eyes take on the sheen of a woman who's seen too much, a thousand yard stare that such a youth has no place in wearing. It doesn't fit.

"Society will slowly conform to the new regulations in the same way the English did to the Romans, in the same way that the Germans quickly folded to the Nazi regime. Society as a whole, it's rules and what is considered acceptable, it's all subjective. Whoever wins between Kira and L, that will be the one the world comes to accept as natural, as normal, and for as long as their regime continues, that is the way the world will work. Years ago, men used to be able to murder another for an insult upon honour. Now, any kind of murder at all is frowned upon. I think that those who murder with cold blood should be kept away from the masses, but if killing them is the right idea, I don't have the moral ground to stand upon and preach such a thing. By killing off the criminals, Kira is becoming what he despises. And unless Kira can successfully keep himself mentally separate from the persona the public and news have created, he will eventually fail."

Silence reigns in the room, both rooms, for a moment, and L watches the inert girl stare up at the ceiling a bit longer before her eyes drop to the younger Yagami.

"I doubt I will ever truly care for justice like you do, Light. That drive and feeling died with the murderer of my parents." Ah, that was right, Potter was an orphan.

Evidentially, that has resulted in her opinion upon death and murder becoming something more remiss of an unclean pond filled to the brim with murky water. Whatever is truly at the bottom, it is hidden away from all those looking at the surface.

For a moment, the young Yagami rolls over to stare at his companion, blinking slowly before he gives a small smile and then presses a soft kiss to Potter's temple, drawing a surprised breath from Chief Yagami.

"You have a very objective view on this world, Hariel."

"Sometimes when you've been in the thick of things, it's easier to get out the eye of the storm and simply watch the next one from the outside."

 

Well… he needs to do some more research on Hariel Potter it seems.

 


	10. The Two Floating Orbs

 

 

 

"A visitor."

Rue Ryuzaki sits up straight in his cell, very much aware of the padded cloth that shifts beneath his bare feet. His arms forcibly embrace his torso, the tight material of the straight jacket conforming the limbs, curving them into his sides.

But that's not what's interesting here.

What's interesting is the visitor, the first one ever, who wears blood and fire in every strand of her hair and who's numbers do not exist.

Just a name, a name and a strange symbol.

Tilting his head to a side, Rue grimaces as the movement pulls at the taunt skin, the burnt skin, that still resides on his cheek.

It's never healed, it's never come back, and apparently you can't change your own numbers, you can't control your own numbers because otherwise Rue would have died that day.

Instead here he sits, looking at the woman who isn't a woman at all, who isn't human.

Even animals have numbers, for all that they lack a name.

They dance before his eyes, flickering back and forth and pulsating in their eerie glow.

"You're going to die today, Rue Ryuzaki," she whispers, taking a seat with the same glaring movement with which a solar flare explodes across the surface of the sun. Weightless hair forms an aureole around her head, and green eyes saturated in death stare back at him.

No, this woman is not human at all.

"You're an odd case," she begins, waving her hand and a small glass jar drops into it from the abyss, slipping seamlessly between the cracks of the universe to come and nestle within her palm, cradled by her fingers.

And the man who had once been Beyond Birthday leans forwards in occult interest, eyeing the two floating orbs within the thick liquid.

"Your original eyes," the woman explains, and Rue watched one of the organs spin in the fluid to stare back at him with a sightless black iris, "but an idiot Shinigami got it in his head to trade them out. Wanted to see what had happen to a human with the Eyes but no Note."

She pronounces the words 'Eyes' and 'Note' in such a way that it leaves Rue no doubt that both words should be capitalised.

"As such, things are unbalanced, given that the Shinigami never got your consent and is currently being punished for its actions. More importantly, I have an offer from Death."

Another quirky hand gesture, and the vial of eyes disappears again, dissolving into nothingness before his eyes.

Ah, had the other orphans, the other residents of Wammy's ever met this girl, no doubt they'd have torn both her and themselves apart in an attempt to understand her abilities.

But Rue can see a person's given death date, and is a little more open-minded regarding the supernatural.

"An offer?" He asks instead, leaning forwards and staring with wide eyes at the woman.

It doesn't unsettle her in the slightest, her gaze as unflinching as his own. The scar across her face is interesting, like nothing he's ever seen before, and nothing springs to mind as to what could have possibly caused such a thing.

"When you die, Death will take you to the Shinigami realm. You will watch for one hundred and eighty days before you either chose to move on, or become a Shinigami yourself. It's up to you."

And then the woman's gone, leaving Rue puzzling over her words and awaiting his apparently imminent death.

 

  
 

* * *

 

 

  
   
"Repeat that."

L doesn't need it repeating, not in the slightest. Certainly not when the physical evidence is before him, housed on a laptop screen.

But it still feels good, still sends a thrill of excitement buzzing through his stomach to know that yet another hunch is right.

Hariel Potter -if that is even her name- is lying.

The paper trail was good, the best he's ever seen, and L has seen many a false paper trail. And the school photographs, the ones of 'Hariel Potter' and the one's of her parents; for all that this woman is, she is evidentially very through.

It's only when L sent people to gather opinions, true verbal opinions as opposed to what was wrote in yearbooks, that the carefully spun web dissolved.

No, that is not the best visualisation.

More, it all fell down, as if each lie were a chain of dominos, creating an abstract pattern that L can only begin to interpret now that it lays still. A changing picture, flickering between the reality and the fabrication, but so clouded that it leaves L with no indication of what was truth and what was fiction.

Of course, there is only one way to certify what is happening, to corner the lying woman and discern the facts.

It is not a method his companions upon this case would be pleased with, certainly they would protest against it given that no clear link to the Kira case is present.

But his instincts have gotten him this far, and L has long ago, long before even his time with Wammy, learnt to trust them.

So when the officers leave for a lunch break, L turns his head to Watari, and begins to plan.

 

 

 

 

The woman who calls herself Hariel Potter spends a great deal of her time in silence, L finds out.

Undercover for the fifth day in a row, he follows after the woman begrudgingly, well aware that were another watching her, they would miss all of the key details.

They would miss the occasional minute flinch at a loud noise, they would miss the way her seemingly dazed eyes scanned the immediate surroundings for any kind of threat, cataloging escape routes as she goes.

Whomever this woman is, she has seen a significant amount of violence, given the lingering tracings of PTSD that accompany her every action.

Matsuda would have never caught that, would have ignored it all for the woman and her pretty face.

Chief Yagami is already blinded, well aware that is son has a high opinion of the woman and thus, influenced by that knowledge.

L was neither of them.

He will not be distracted by the unusual face, nor is he already influenced when it comes to the woman.

All he knows about her, is that she is lying.

Right now, she sits on a bench overlooking the local gardens, the soft breeze lifting hair that seems unnaturally light when put under serious consideration.

There is something instinctively wrong about this woman. It was there the first time they met, when L met her eyes as she walked over to him, and it is still a feeling that persists even now, that has him cringing beneath the pale surface of his skin and threatens to rattle his bones.

Something just does not sit right here, and it has L itching to figure out just why this woman sets off every survival instinct he has.

She's a liar.

Yet, he saw no false-truth when they spoke in that cafe, he had seen nothing that indicated she was hiding a part of her personality.

Even as he had watched her through the cameras in the Yagami household, listened to her opinion on the Kira case, he had not sensed a lie. She was either exceptionally gifted at weaving false words, or she had in fact been telling the truth.

Not that any of that matters right now; the most important thing at this moment in time is that this woman has lied, is that the have no true information on her, and thus, she has become the most suspicious and dangerous being L has had contact with on this case so far.

He dithers for a few moments, mind whirling and calculating how the woman would react to being cornered, how she would respond as he informed her that he knew she was lying.

He doesn't know enough about the variables though, there's not enough information on the woman to predict how she will react.

It's why he has Wammy on standby with a tranquilliser.

He doesn't quite fear for his life, he gets no killing vibes from this woman.

Even with Beyond, he had gotten a sense of discomfort. Not to the same level he gets with this woman; the two sensations can be compared to lines running parallel to one another. Equally discomforting, but never crossing.

The caution with which he regards the woman is not the same caution he extended to Beyond.

He could tell there was something wrong with Beyond from the start, despite the other genii's impeccable acting skills.

And he highly doubts that this 'Hariel Potter' has skill equal to, or greater than, Beyond's.

"Is everything okay?" Glancing up, L meets the woman's green eyes -unnaturally green; genetic mishap, exposure to radioactive material?-, and notes that she is watching him with something that could almost be considered the vaguest amount of concern.

"No," L murmurs, giving up the guise and reaching for one of the chocolate balls that sit in the depths of his pocket.

The lair blinks, looking quite confused.

Understandable, it's not socially acceptable an answer when the question comes from a complete stranger.

Yet, L will not be a liar here, my when he is on a quest for the truth.

"Speaking hypothetically," he begins, climbing onto the bench and settling into his customary perch, the woman leaning slightly left in order to avoid coming into contract with his shoulder, "say I am a detective, tracking down the most elusive serial killer in history. During my quest, I come across a woman who's whole backstory, though the most impeccably falsified tale I have come across, falls apart when I dig far enough. What conclusions would I draw?"

There's nothing like shock or horror or even guilt on the woman's face.

Just that same curious tilt to her head and straight lips.

"I would say you're curious," she says slowly, as if testing the words out to see if they would stand correctly.

They fall flat on the space between them.

Sucking on another chocolate, L observes the woman, noting how she makes no attempts to flee, nor to attack him. Perhaps this will be the most painless retrieval he's ever taken part in.

"I must ask that you come with me."

There is silence for a moment as the woman considers his words, before she slowly nods.

"Okay."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

' _Experts baffled at the disappearing of star from nights sky!_

_At approximately 2:34am on Decembwr 25th, Rho Puppis, of the Puppis constellation, disappeared from sight, with no indication of becoming a red giant nor supernova. In this unprecedented event..._ '

  
Putting down the newspaper after staring at the page for several minutes, Light thumbed at the little star resting against his chest, forcing himself to curb the hysterical laughter threatening to break free.

His eyes were once again drawn to the page, and the teenager was unable to help the slight chuckle that escaped his lips, plucking up the latest revision guide again as he sat back down.

The phone in his pocket chimes slightly, and Light pulls it out, staring at the message on screen for a few seconds.

It was, odd, for Hariel to ever bother sending him a text message, given that she much preferred talking face to face with a person. It has to be something urgent for her to resort to such a method of communication.

Pursing his lips at the knowledge something had come up and would mean her unreachable for an indefinite amount of time, Light twists around to look at Ryuk, who seems just as puzzled as he is.

"Is something happening in the Shinigami world?"

"Nope. Maybe Harry's been called back to er world for a bit. She's not a native, remember?"

How could he possibly forget?

Hariel didn't fit in with his world, but it was becoming harder and harder to image her out of it.

"It's not like anything can really hurt her, Light."

That, that is true.

Nodding, Light turns his attention back to the study guide. After all, he isn't just Kira, he is also Yagami Light, who has an entrance exam fast approaching that he most certainly needs to ace.

Hariel would return, she always did.

 

 


	11. A Larger Problem

 

 

It's been six days since the woman had complied without resistance, allowing herself to be taken into his custody. 

The fact she doesn't even question it, doesn't sprout that waffle about human rights -ha, like L would let that apply in the face of a killer- already sets off warning bells. 

She's held within what appears to be an average jail cell, the mundane bars upon the walls, and the environment gives no indication as to its true origins. That it is, in fact, a simple warehouse, the cell crafted within for this very reason. 

"So, why am I here?" 

L stares through the camera lens at the woman restrained to a simple eight by six room, wondering why it has taken her this long to start asking questions. 

Six days have passed by, and she has spent every last one in silence, accepting the food that a masked Watari has presented her with, eating without the slightest hesitancy that it might be poisoned. 

Her eyes are still unnaturally bold, and he wonders if they will be as bright now that she has been captured by him, if they will still all but glow when no lens rests between them. If the same wide eyed apathy would remain upon her face now that he finally has control of the situation. 

Because this girl does not have a background. 

Nothing. 

No files, no photos, no documentation, no records. 

Nothing. 

Not even a set of parents or some siblings and her DNA isn't human. 

Oh, it is close. Closer than any other species than has ever walked the earth throughout its entire history. 

But she isn't human. 

And for all his genius, all his connections, all his technology, he fails to identify the problem. He cannot figure out the key element. 

But there is certainly something there. Something that lingers upon this woman, that twists in the air around her. 

The more he looks, truly looks, the more he sees, the more he understands. 

Because this woman that Yagami Light has found is not human, she's something beyond that. 

She's a puzzle; The Puzzle. 

Were it not for the Kira case, had L met her, he'd probably have fallen into the same trap as Yagami Light. 

He assumed, at first, that she was Kira. 

Yet, it only took a moment of observation, a single instance of interaction, to conclude that this woman was not Kira. 

But that doesn't answer his questions. In fact, it just presents more. 

Were she Kira, perhaps she'd have been a goddess of justice, it would explain the strange, impossible deaths. 

But she's not, she's just an unknown, and unknown who's not Kira and certainly not human. Close, but that little glitch in the DNA gives her away. 

"You're not human," L states blandly, chewing upon the finely trimmed nail of his thumb, eyes riveted upon the computer screen that housed the image of the woman. 

The woman speaks with an English accent as she informs him, "I used to be... I think." 

Well, that is impossibly complicated. Failed genetic experimentation? Successful genetic experimentation? Accidental exposure to a variety of harmful radiation? 

"I accidentally became a god," the woman muses, tilting her to a side, red curls tumbling onto the bed's pillow. She seems apathetic to everything; either she's the most talented actress on the face of the earth, or she has no motivation towards anything at all. 

She's not Kira. 

Something in him could sense it from the start. It's been six days since she was imprisoned, and every single Kira victim had died while this woman was doing nothing. She's not Kira. 

And now, with the woman out of the way -the crazy, delusional woman who claims to be a god, but who's DNA says she's not human- everything points to Yagami Light. 

He weighs the idea. Would it fit in with his profile, for Yagami to attempt puzzling out this woman, while also working as Kira? 

L doesn't know. 

He will find out though. 

"You were human before?" L asks instead, one long finger presses down on the mic button, others occupied with those delicious panda shaped cookies. 

The woman blinks, and she's not even trying to hide anymore, for she floats a handful of inches from the surface of the bed. 

L watches, fascinated and mind racing, calculating the ways in which such an illusion could be achieved, and striking each one when it proved impossible for her to have completed such a thing. Red hair flows around her face, all of Newton's Laws abandoned in the presence of this woman. 

"I was human before," she confirms with a whisper, the kind of expression upon her face that would make Shakespeare weep. Certainly Rodger would appreciate the sheer anguish upon her face. 

Why anyone would miss being human, L doesn't know. What an awful, restricting form, though the best earth had to offer. 

Until now. 

He's run the simulations, whatever this woman is, she's close enough to human that she can breed with them, and the child would suffer no ill effects. Were there more of them? Surely not, otherwise he'd know by now. 

"Your name?" L prompts, eyes never leaving the monitor. 

The woman states directly into the lens, and there is no emotion upon her face; in that respect, it's almost like looking into a mirror. 

How unsettling. 

She's still floating, even as she sits up and folds her legs into a crossed position, and she's still floating. That needs to be taken note of, again and again and again. Because she's still floating.

Just what does he have stashed in that warehouse? 

"Hariel Lillian Potter was the name my parents gave me," she says, even as the bed beneath her transforms into something grander, something far more befitting of a five star hotel than the standard prison cell mattress it had once been, "though they shortened it to Harry." 

Hariel Lillian Potter lands upon the new bed with a grace that should escape normal human beings, stretching out on the drab fabric in the simple white pyjamas that Watari had seen to it she was dressed in. 

They had confiscated everything the woman had upon her person, from her phone, to her boots, to the strange scarf made of an unknown substance. It felt fluid in his hands, and the lab reports from the small sample he'd sent to Wammy's had come back inconclusive. 

Already the orphans who'd worked on the project were frothing at the mouth for more information, information L was disinclined to share. 

Oh, if only he could wrap the Kira case up, then he could get lost in this new and exciting mystery. The girl who could float, who wasn't quite human; were there more of her? 

In fact, that is an incredibly sensible question, could others exist with supernatural powers, such as this young woman? 

"Are there more of you?" L asks, not even bothering to hide the evident curiosity that sits within his voice. 

Potter's neck curves as she turns her gaze to the camera, lips pursed in thought. 

"Yes," she says slowly, pronunciation steady, if with an almost questioning tilt to the end. 

More of this woman, what an alarming thought. 

"But they cannot come here," she continues, frowning, "I'll be the last one to ever visit." 

She looks away after those words leave her lips, thin hands clenching into small fists. Evidentially, whatever it was that led to her presence here has resulted in great emotional pain, perhaps to the point where it had resulted in her general apathy for all that happens to her. Most importantly though… 

"Are you implying you are not of this country Miss Potter?" Not of this world is what he wants to ask, but the idea seems ludicrous. While aliens cannot be ruled out, the chances of them developing so similar to humans, yet gifted with the ability to float, to be able to interact with humans and almost pass off as one; the possibilities of such a thing happening are minuscule. 

"I'm not from this world," she says instead, as if the very fact she could float, could change the matter that made up her bed into something grander, as if creating something more from something less, didn't already imply she was not human in the slightest. 

"Are you aware there are no laws protecting aliens from harm?" L asks, genuinely curious. 

She doesn't strike him as the type to leave herself open like this, not unless she was certain in her ability to protect herself. Given what he's seen so far, L plans on taking no chances. 

Green eyes, inhuman green that see stretches of existence L has otherwise been ignorant of, stare up into the lens of the camera for a second, before Potter huffs and apparently loses interest. 

"I guessed as much." 

"I have DNA evidence that you are not human, Miss Potter. I could do anything to you and receive no consequences for my actions." 

It went without saying that he'd already kidnapped her, stolen her possessions, and seen no punishment. There was no law enforcement knocking down his door, no one had been alerted that Potter was missing; after quickly flicking through her previous text messages to Yagami Light, L had been able to send off a similar text implying that Potter would be out of the country for a significant amount of time. 

It went without saying that, in the minds of the vast majority of people upon the planet, L was well within his rights to keep her here, to solve the mystery that was Kira, and then find out just what she was doing here. 

He can see the moment the same resolution settles within Potter, for the green glass eyes solidify into something far stronger than any other he'd ever held captive. 

A given, considering they were all criminals who'd known the gig was up, that they'd been caught. Potter, however, Potter is something else entirely. 

"I see," she murmurs, standing up as the bed slowly morphs back into what it once was. Instantly, the bars that hold her within the cell begin to melt, puddling onto the floor in liquid mirrors of molten metal, and L feels something that could quite possibly be unease and alarm jolt through his body. 

"It was nice to speak to you," Potter says, a blankness to her face that has absolutely nothing to do with indifference and implies her words mean anything but what she actually said, not even paying attention to the freedom she has granted herself. Instead, she meets his eyes through the lens of the camera. 

L topples from his chair when, with a twist of her body and a loud crack, Potter vanishes from the cell.

 

And belatedly, he realizes that perhaps, he as just created a larger problem than Kira.

 


	12. Queen of the Castle

 

 

 

Even crumbled into ruins, the skeletal ghost of Hogwarts is familiar.

The worn stones have cracked and caved, piled up in small, stubby fingers that make little to no effort of reaching up from the ground they're held by. The lack of magic, the magic that would have sustained this magnificent structure and made it into a landmark, a precious cradle of the Wizarding World's history, is absent.

Because there was never any magic in this world. 

There was never a collection of young idealists who wished to purchase the original castle from its muggle creators. The shallow building block was never expanded upon, Hogwarts never flourished into the grand structure that lies within her memory.

Harry hasn't realised how much she longs for this place, until it's cheap clone is all that the world can offer.

Slowly sitting herself down on one of the steadier mounds of rocks, she stares south, across the great grassy expanse that should have been the Great Hall. Looking up, staring at the twinkling night's sky that looms above her head, if she squints a little, it's almost as if she's back there.

With no conscious thought, her magic creeps free from her form, stones rising from the ground and melding together, until the hollowed walls of the Great Hall have arisen before her, Ravenclaw's charmwork seeping into the cracks of the ceiling until the image of the night's sky once again persists upon the roof. Tables bloom into existence, growing up from the tender saplings that nature has planted, in an attempt to gain grounds that were once lost.

The house banners flutter down, a snake, an eagle, a badger, and a lion, all hanging from invisible strings, descend from the starry ceiling. Her childhood flourishes into existence around her, and Hariel Potter has never felt more out of place.

For all its dazzling appearance, this place is not home.

This is not her Hogwarts, this is not the haven she had so adored as a child, the one place she felt safe, where she almost belonged.

And now she was on a planet with no magic, a world she couldn't quite bring herself to consider leaving, tied down by her own connections.

Because Light was here.

And she didn't need to hide before Light.

He knew everything, and he didn't care to judge her for those strange powers.

True, his apparent apathy towards her abilities was more to do with his inability to control her, to stop her, but that total acceptance was something she had craved from early childhood.

Despite all intentions otherwise, it appears that she has made a friend in this searing afterimage, this half-reflection, of her own world.

How unexpected.

She's starting to care again.

No, that isn't quite right.

She already cares, in the very least, for Light's own opinion of her.

Otherwise, she would not have even considered his reaction to her powers, his thoughts upon her, not mere moments ago.

How strange.

 

  
Food bubbles into existence before the Headmaster's chair, and Harry makes her way over, dropping into the ostentatious throne that has always been associated with Dumbledore within the safety of her mind.

It'd always seemed out of place within the school's dining hall, the kind of pretentious play that Draco Malfoy would exhibit while meeting with half bloods, certainly not the kind of thing she'd have pictures existing in a school.

But, it had always been there, from her first day, an antique perhaps? The Wizarding World was, after all, steeped in tradition; to throw it out would probably be tantamount to sacrilege.

Now though, Harry no longer resides within the Wizarding World, hasn't for years.

All those traditions and rules, they no long bind her.

In the same vein of thought though, she inhabits Death's Domain no longer. The twisting mass of substance being made and unmade in a never ended cycle has become less of a commonplace thing, to the point what had once been a familiar sight, would probably appear exotic and unusual now that she has spent a great deal of her time back here.

Has it truly only been a few months? Not even half a year on this world.

For all that it lacks magic, perhaps it does hold a little charm, given that she has been here for so long without the slightest desire to leave.

And- and it's not boring.

Not like Death's Domain.

There is actually motivation, no matter how small, to go back to Japan and see Light. And, in a state of nothingness, with only blank space to compete against, that drive is the biggest feeling within her chest, a lone star among a blank night's sky.

 

Sat upon the Throne of Hogwarts, with the four House tables extending onwards before her, she feels like a queen holding court.

Queen of the castle.

Not a god, but a queen, something a little closer to human, despite all the power that thrums beneath her skin.

She thinks on L, the detective, her once captor, the one who would see Light executed, and yet, a man doing his best to better the world. To keep it safe.

He would be a Slytherin, she thinks.

Both L and Light. Their strange games, motives hidden inside a plot hidden in a play, it all goes over her head.

In this battle, a regime is either going to burn up before it can be constructed and implemented, or a new empire and dynasty will grow and flourish.

For all that she sits back and watches, Harry wonders if she truly has a place within it.

This world, as perplexingly quaint as it appears, is not hers.

Could she truly care to change things, to influence and encourage one side or another?

 

What would Hogwarts have been like, had Light and L attended at the same time?

It is quite the disturbing thought, Harry thinks, to consider what both would have been capable of with magic.

Perhaps there would have been no war with Voldemort.

For the battle between L and Light would have taken centre stage.

Both remind her uncomfortably of Tom Riddle, but all things considered, she still sees the handsome Slytherin whenever she dares to look in the mirror.

Even now, postmortem, he follows her every footstep, a lingering ghost who's substance clings to her every form, breathing the same air as she.

A looming presence of a lament long passed, but refusing to dissipate regardless.

It should not be such a surprise, that she sees his ruthless passion, the same unflinching resolve, every time she meets Light's eyes.

Sees the rapacious determination, the twisted cunning, in every move L makes.

No matter how far she runs, how far she retreats inside herself, Hariel Potter will never be completely rid of the shade of Tom Riddle.

It's tragic really, an elegiac ode more fitting to that of a Shakespearean play than reality. It is the kind of morse plot-line that would have probably appealed to the Bard of Avon. Almost Ovidian, if one took into account how close the lines of love and hate were, how they blurred together.

Hariel Potter had not so much as hated Voldemort, as she had been terrified of the concept of becoming him. Of looking at the sixteen year old Tom Riddle, and seeing her own reflection, her own image, represented upon the pages of that weathered diary.

Harry had been the side that landed face up in the coin toss, but she would never be a singular component.

For too long, Harry Potter and Voldemort had been synonymous of each other, a symbiotic, destructive relationship that allowed one to keep living forever, even if it was only in memory now.

Their continual dance had come so close to destroying Harry, had destroyed Tom in the end.

And now here she sits, in a cheap intimidation of the only place two lonely orphans had ever dared to call home, with the shadow of a potential life stretching before her and not the slightest clue what to do with it.

The possibilities are numerous, limitless, to the point were she is lost, orbit-less in a great expanse of space with nothing to show for it. There are no expectations of here, no claustrophobic grip of tradition and weighty gazes.

Hariel Potter is free and directionless for the first time in her life, has been for years, and she doesn't know what to do about it.

 

She wonders what L's reaction to her abrupt escape will be.

How he will explain the melted prison bars? The man seemed logical to a point, but when one eliminates as all that is possible, would he move on to the impossible?

Will he tell the law enforcement of her alien status?

The illegality of her stay in within the country?

Or would he respond in the same way as she had once done when presented with a mystery?

Claim it as his own, taking steps to draw out the correct conclusion, to reach the ending which, in hindsight, was inevitable regardless of personal choice?

She cannot see L or Light ever being manipulated by a higher power though, like she was by both her adversary and her mentor.

Did this make them Dumbledore and Voldemort?

But then what of she?

The only being that had ever ranked higher than those two was Death itself, and she cannot picture herself as the end of both Light and L.

Mayhap this is no longer a good comparison, and perhaps she shouldn't be looking for comparisons where there were none to be found.

This is no longer her story, she is a mere supporting role now, her time as the main character, as the hero, over and done with.

And now, she has no idea who  the protagonist to this tale is. No one knew; public opinion was split pretty evenly, as far as Harry was aware.

This world, these events, there is no good or evil, no black and white. Just a clash of ideals, grey against grey, each intent on being the sole victor, and willing to use every trick, ploy and asset to their advantage.

It's not the clear cut edge that the Wizarding World painted her battle with Voldemort with.

Even then, there were the unseen undertones, how she was a mere reflection of Tom Riddle, how they were mirror images, just one of them cracked.

Harry's still not quite sure who's image was the untainted one.

She had people pressuring her to walk one path, Tom had been free to chose. Had Harry not been the Girl-Who-Lived, had one thing gone differently...

It's certainly food for thought.

 

 

Chewing on the last scrap of chicken, Harry finishes her dinner and stares at the grand oak doors, the very entrance to the secure sanctuary she has built herself.

Already her magic is locking all the enchantments into place, promising to never allow this slice of Hogwarts, this pittance of her previous life, to never leave this world.

Not without some extreme show of magical force.

Perhaps she needs to take a step back, away from the battle that reminds her of a fractured mirror of Harry v Tom.

Maybe it is for the best that she goes off and finds just what she wants from this place, if it's worth staying and getting invested.

If her friendship with Light is worth both the possibility of getting hurt, if it's worth being dragged back into another battle of morals and visions.

Certainly it's not going to be something she can decide so close up.

She needs space, space and time to think.

Thankfully, this world is as big as her last. Perhaps she will go and see if the Hanging Gardens of Babylon exist here too.

 

Current goal set, Harry summons her phone from where ever L has been keeping it, grimacing at the wheeze the electrics give when gripped with her magic.

Flipping the screen open, she notes a text message she most certainly didn't send.

At the very least, L appears to have left Light in the dark regarding her abrupt kidnapping. Then, she starts typing.

' _Got kidnapped, then got bored and escaped. Off to see a bit of the world, will be back soon._ '

Harry stares down at the screen, wondering what she can write to let Light know this is truly her.

' _Don't cramp your hand writing too many notebooks at uni, will you?_ '

There, inconspicuous enough.

 

Snapping off the text, Harry pockets the phone, absentmindedly charging out of her borrowed pyjamas as she does so.

And then, she apperates away.

 


	13. The Sun in the Sky

 

 

 

 

 

It's been a month and a week since Hariel text him, informing him she'd be out of the country for some time.

It's been a month since she last text him, stating she was kidnapped and had escaped, complete with that little code at the end to let him know it was truly her this time.

At the very least, she hadn't picked a lull during his battle with L to disappear. In fact, she had evaporated into the world just as things had begun picking up, as a man -the strangest looking man he's ever seen- had appeared and proclaimed himself L.

If Hariel was to leave for some time, Light was thankful that it'd been during the busy time, so that her sheer presence could not create a distraction that he was unable to ignore.

Regardless, his mind still wondered, when things were so slow they were almost still, when the dust was settling between moves.

Out of all the people he knew, Hariel was perhaps the person he would worry about the least in a physical confrontation; given her powers, Light could not see her suffering any problems.

What did worry him, was Hariel's passivity towards the world in general. Her text was a prime example in itself. She'd been kidnapped, and allowed her assailant to hold her captive for six days before breaking herself free.

While the very core of his being knew she wasn't easily manipulated, that didn't stop his mind from throwing forwards hundreds of different scenarios that could see his friend -his only friend- trapped by her own ignorance to how the world worked. Right now, there were only two beings close to him, and neither of them were particularly human.

Ryuk, well, he wasn't invested in Ryuk. The Shinigami had made it abundantly clear that he didn't care what happened to Light, as long as he gave the death god a good show.

Hariel though..

She'd helped.

He'd never admit it, but she'd pulled him back from the brink when it came to the FBI incident, forced him to section Kira off from Light. To use her favourite analogy, Kira and Light were two sides of the same coin, both together and separate at the same time.

Yes, of all the people he knows, it's Hariel's company he prefers, her company he would actually go to the effort of seeking out. She's the only other being of intelligence that he can put up with in the immediate vicinity.

L, or rather than man claiming to be L, is an unavoidable evil.

Were they not playing for such high stakes, were this not a game of life and death, then perhaps he would have enjoyed meeting an intellectual equal.

As it is though, Light just wants the infuriating man out of his life, because it seems he's muscling in on every front possible.

Most noticeably, at his university.

Light has never before in his life shared the top spot with someone.

It is not a pleasant thing, not in the slightest.

And now this fool wishes to challenge him to a tennis match? No doubt to assess the character profile he has built up in his head, to use it against him. But really, in something as restrictive as tennis, they'd just be running in circles of 'what if he's trying to fool me', creating a constant game of true or false.

Yet, he can do nothing other than play along with the situation, dancing on eggshells as he is.

He's going to end up cracking a few of them anyway, it's just a case of making sure L ends up breaking more of them.

One slip, that's all that's needed. One slip, and either he or the opposition will crumble.

 

 

Walking out from afternoon classes, Light stretches his arms above his head, feeling the tension in his back slowly shift into something a little more bearable. His book bag is heavy upon his shoulder, though nowhere near as weighty as L's gaze.

As such, it takes him a few moments to realize something is wrong with this particular scene, that there's an outlier, a blot on this otherwise normal landscape. It is, in fact, Ryuk's laughter that has him clocking onto just what the cause is, and Light's head swings in the direction of the stares at the same time L does.

It's Hariel.

As soon as that registers, then Light can only question how he missed her, given that she stands out more than the sun in the sky.

Among the mass of brown and black hair, the badly dyed blonde, she's a beacon of fire, curls a riot around her face. She looks stranger than usual, tanned, skin several shades darker and leaving her scarring stark across her face.

Clearly she's been off enjoying the sun. Though he knows for certain she stopped by Scotland before she went off adventuring.

The strange castle hall that had appeared, the ceiling that reflected the sky that would otherwise be unseen, Hariel should have just signed her name upon the work, given the ease he'd been able to pin it to her.

She's sat upon a bench, wearing the same golden dress that he met her in, only it's lighter now, white gold against the tan of her skin. With her bold hair and vibrant eyes, she really is a sight.

Something that has been caught in his chest for the entire month eases, whatever was clogging his throat has dissolved, and he finds he can breathe easy now that she's in sight.

There's no new scars, and she looks well. In fact, she looks it healthier than when she left, given the light tan to her skin now. There's something about the set of her shoulders too, which had seemed so thin and brittle, but are now steady and while narrow, seem strong. Her time away had clearly done her some good.

No longer does she remind him of the cold expanse of space.

Now, it's more like the nebula, all bright and colourful clouds of constellations, and just as dazzlingly captivating.

Adjusting the hold on his bag, Light makes his way over, L not quite forgotten but certainly pushed to the back of his mind.

He hears the rest of the students mutter and whisper over his apparent familiarity with the strangely pretty girl, but Light just brushes them off, far more interested in catching up with the woman he hasn't seen in a month.

"Hariel," and then the words just stop.

There's so much he wants to say, but so very little he can in front of L. He wants to ask questions, wants to ask why she seems both inhuman, and yet, more in touch with humanity than ever, all at the same time. He wants to ask where she's been, what the rest of the world seemed like through her eyes.

Instead, all that comes out of his mouth is a simple, '"you look well."

It's the truth, the sun has done her a world of good, but it holds so many undertones that he wouldn't be able to voice, given L's presence.

Because something in him settles, knowing that she hasn't just up and left. That, despite what he is doing as Kira, she remains beside him, knowing the truth as she does.

To Light's shock, Hariel gets to her feet and throws her arms around him, pressing her face into the curve of his neck.

A mouthful of curly red hair is Light's penalty for not reacting quick enough, as the jealous whispers of his fellow students began to brew, a low frequency storm in the background.

Still, Light recovers quick enough at this unexpected display of affection to wrap his own arms around Hariel's thin waist, noting that even though she appears tanned, her skin is still cool to the touch. In the celestial dress, she look more otherworldly than should be possible, outside the world of special effects and makeup.

Certainly, she doesn't look as if she belongs here; an alien in human skin.

"I missed you," she breaths in his ear, and Light can actually her the sincerity leaking through the apathy in her words.

It's, startling, to say the least.

But, but she missed him.

She's attached.

Were L not present, were L not watching, he'd probably not be able to stop himself from laughing.

He's got her attached.

The Master of Death is invested in him now. Perhaps not enough to save him, should something truly horrible happen, but it's a start. He can only build on things from here, the hardest part of the task is over and done with, initial contact with her feelings and emotions has been made.

There's something truly magnificent in knowing that.

He's one step ahead of L now.

L, who even if he is Hariel's kidnapper, does not hold all of the cards. No doubt he fails to comprehend the extent of her power, how it reaches to the furthest corners of the universe to cradle all the stars within its grasp. The sheer enormity of what Hariel Potter is, it will no doubt escape the detective.

Hariel Potter is attached to him, the Master of Death is teetering closer to his side of the board.

The strongest piece.

Of course, Light hasn't managed to escape this dealing unscratched, he's well aware that out of everyone on earth, he prefers Hariel's company to the rabble that surrounds him.

But then, like attracts like, it is as simple as that.

So when he smoothes down the mass of Hariel's hair with one hand, quietly stating that he had 'missed her too'; it is not a lie that leaves his lips for once.

She pulls back, folding her hands together in front of her dress and smiling nervously. She looks exactly like a normal, insecure girl, and an unsure alien all at once; both personas attempting to fit in and never quite managing it. Already the emotion -true emotion- she's been showing is sliding free of her face.

The key thing to take away though, is that the emotion had been there to begin with.

It's certainly progress.

"Ah, Ryuga, this is Hariel Potter," Light states, rather awkwardly. He remembers the confrontation he had with Hariel in the new year, she's met L before.

Buts it's impossible to read her face as she looks to the dark haired man with green eyes that are more a mirror than window. Her features betray none of her emotions as she stares at L, before after a breath stealing moment, she nods.

"We've met," is all she says instead, holding out her hand in greeting.

If anything, the lack of a bow is probably the most damming evidence of her being English born. Her features give away the fact she is foreign to Japan, just like they separate her from every other nationality.

Sure, Hariel was British once upon a time, but now she's something more, a being from another world who hasn't quite been able to shake off the star dust she's walked through.

"It is good to see you are well, Miss Potter."

Light, Light feels like he is missing something here. It almost feels as if he is between two warring states, two electrically charged clouds, lightning sparking as they rubbed the wrong way against one another.

But that's not right at all, because Hariel doesn't have enough emotions for her to have an ego, never mind allowing it to do battle against another.

Yet...

For all that L has appears dead and detached from the situation, it's safe to say something about Hariel has his hackles rising. He's seeing the same thing Light did upon his first meeting with the Master of Death.

Not Hariel, but the power that she wields, the aureole that encompasses her form, only visible to those she has exposed her true self to. Well, it appears as if he's found the kidnapper of his only friend. This could, potentially, be the most awkward situation he has ever found himself in.

Truly, as the seconds drag on, Hariel and L do nothing more than stare at each other, scrutinising, seeing things in the opposition that no one else would have ever noticed.

L does not take Hariel's hand, and it hovers between them awkwardly, a physical representation of their unease with one another.

Light had long ago accepted change as not only a possibility, but an unavoidable certainty. The constant flux within which all elements that made up the known world, from the minute atoms to the stupidest ideas of his fellow humans, has made sure of that. He'd adapted, learnt how to play the game and predict the changes to a great extent.

Regardless, knowing change will come and being able to accept it happening were two very different things.

L is now fully aware of Hariel.

He knows she can manipulate the universe to an even greater extent than what L himself could, and that would make him cautious.

And while Light feels comfortable with Hariel, there are some lines even he dates not cross when talking to her. He knows not to ask her to kill anyone, to not pick sides regarding this battle between L and Kira; it just won't end in any form of favourable manner for him.

Though he highly doubts Hariel would ever turn against him, he doesn't question the fact that, should he attempt to push her too far, she would leave. And, he doesn't want that.

Hariel is his equal, if not intellectually, then in power.

Doubtlessly, she has far more life experience than he, and that evens the distance between them.

Given Kira's existence, it seems only right that another God walks beside him. Whereas Kira is the face, the one slowly becoming worshipped and accepted by humanity, the Master of Death walks in the shadows, unseen and unheard by all but her fellow deity.

Were a comparison to be made, Light would freely label Kira as a false god.

Hariel, for all her power and grand wisdom upon morality, holds a godlike innocence that leaves her selectively blind to the trials of the everyday man. Even Light has hoops to jump through, despite his alter ego of Kira. Hariel has a freedom that leaves her unbound like every other individual Light knows, himself included.

No, as the Greek Gods answered to Zeus, Kira has to metaphorically bow before the power that is the Master of Death.

But really, could Hariel be a god if she refused to acknowledge such a thing?

In reality, she too was nothing more than the alter ego of her godly self. Mortality nips at Kira's heels, while it walks alongside the Master of Death.

Light has so very much to do in his life, one lifespan to build an empire. Hariel has nothing to do, no plans to fill her life with grand achievements. Light's not even sure what Hariel's plans are, if she has any at all.

The burning fury, the jealousy and anger that'd roared and rage at the idea of such wasted power has been snuffed out now, not even smoking ashes left. How can he possibly be jealous of all that Hariel has become, when it's left her so evidentially damaged?

But really, when it comes to both their respective godhoods, an ideal made into a god by its followers and believes, or an unknown power slipping beneath the notice of the human consciousness, it's all relative.

Light's not going to worry too much on it, he knows personally where Kira stands, and as Kira's creator, he has the final say upon that matter.

He's not even going to attempt figuring out the Master of Death situation.

Hariel just is.

A fixture in his life, advisor and friend, all rolled into one.

She's the steady component in this ever changing madness, and though he knows that she too will change, her seemingly absolute power will always remain. And that will be his anchor, the thing that drags him back before he goes over the edge, regardless of Hariel's personal intentions. The universe persists upon balance, upon set rules and structure.

Hariel is the balance for Light, just as the Master of Death is Kira's balance.

 

 

"Will you be watching our tennis match tomorrow?"

Light snaps back to attention to see Hariel has lowered her hand, though the staring contest persists. With L's purposely wide black eyes, and Hariel's genetically doe-like green, it's an uncomfortable thing to watch.

"I've never watched a tennis match," she murmurs, blinking thrice before dismissing L and turning her attention upon Light. He has just a moment to catch the puzzled irritation that commands L's face at the rebuff, before Hariel gathers all his attention.

"I got you something while I was travelling," she murmurs, reaching into her pocket and pulling free what appears to be a bracelet, thin strands of leather expertly plaited together.

Well aware of Hariel's last big gift -he'd insisted she not get him a birthday present, least she end up stealing another star from the sky-, Light cautiously accepted the jewellery, thumb running over the smooth marble cradled within the leather.

"I saw what remains of the Temple of Artemis."

Oh.

Well, he now has a pretty good idea of where the stone is from. No doubt the ruins now house another small chip.

Still, instead of presenting him a part of the solar system, Hariel has offered up a slice of history. Say what you will about her acquisition of the gifts, but she certainly put some thought into them.

"Thank you," Light says, tightening the strands around his wrist until the marble rests comfortably upon a pulse point.

"I thought it was the man who bought the woman jewellery."

L's deadpan shatters the easy calm that has descended, and Light pushes down the violent urge to hit the man. It's unseemly and unnecessary.

"That's rather chauvinistic," Hariel states in the same blank voice, before she turns a hesitant smile on Light, "I'll be by to watch your match tomorrow."

She walks away before either of them can say anything.

Right then, Light comprehends just how much strain L will place upon his interactions with Hariel.

It's a horrible realization. 

 

 

 


	14. The Protection of the Innocent

 

 

 

 

If Hariel does stop by to watch the tennis match, then Light is unaware of her presence. Though, she did say she would be there, so he doubts she will have avoided making an appearance. As the scars upon her hand proclaim, Hariel doesn't allow a lie to pass through her lips. She may omit information, she may refuse to answer a question, but she has yet to tell him a lie.

Now, sat beside his father's hospital bed, Light finds himself contemplating the mortality of human life, a subject he suspects Hariel would have been happy to hold a discussion on, were she here.

He wonders, sometimes, what Hariel gets up to while she is off on her own, ponders what strange thoughts whirl about in her head. He cannot picture it being a quiet place, despite the stillness that persists in the air around her.

Hariel's head, he imagines, would be a place as potent with thought as her body was with magic. All the questions she could ask about the world, given how much of it she has seen, the sheer magnitude of what she can contemplate escapes him sometimes.

It is not that Hariel is unintelligent, compared to the average student, she would be considered quite smart.

It is just against his superior intellect, her own appears dwarfed.

Factual information quivers below the force of philosophy though. That is more about true thinking, about creativity and experience and questioning.

Though he has seen only a little evidence, Light understands that Hariel is exceedingly good at the questioning part. How she had spoken after L's broadcast, how she had talked him through the situation with the FBI.

Light is not stupid, nor is he ignorant of the fact that some people will have a greater amount of knowledge than him on obscure subjects, the kind he'd never have taken an interest in before.

And then sometimes, there comes along a person with a similar level of knowledge, but who's viewpoint differs so radically from his own that he can do nothing other than sit and contemplate.

Hariel has presented herself as that person several times.

He can bounce ideas off of her, and know that she will not judge him for how far his mind roves while considering set topics, how the issue of what is considered morally right and socially acceptable escapes him when the topic stokes his intrigue.

With everyone else he has ever known, it is always as if he's treading upon thin ice, and the slightest crack would send him plunging. Everyone would judge, and while Light doesn't particularly care, those that are abnormal compared to the majority usually end up finding life made harder for them. He has never had a wish to create more problems for himself, so he created the act, flourished under the guise of a perfect student.

And yet, even as he looked around, the world was rotting.

He couldn’t understand why the human race was so faulty, so imperfect, and why they failed to live up to his admittedly lofty expectations. It was from these thoughts, that the very basis of Kira had been formed, to get rid of the low average and drag the human race up into something a bit more respectful.

To be able to do that, and save all the people that would have suffered beneath the scum of society, it had all been so neat and tidy.

Just a little book, and a lot of heart attacks.

 

 

 

 

As such, while he knows his father's heart attack has nothing to do with Kira, his own chest had seized up at the news, clenching hard until it seemed even his organs felt tight, as impossible as that situation would be.

 

 

 

 

Now, here he sits, beside the man his father has confirmed as L, once again talking about the Kira case, and yet, all he can focus on is what Hariel is up to.

He wants to talk to her, to discuss the wildly fluctuating feeling and thoughts that have come about as a result of his father's near scare with death. He doesn't care to open up before L or his father, neither of them would understand the way his mind works.

Well, L would, but he would also rapidly conclude that Light was Kira, and as such, made a completely unacceptable choice.

No, Light wants to speak to Hariel, to watch the girl tilt her head to a side, red curls tumbling over one shoulder as she considers his words and offers a perspective he'd never have thought of on his lonesome.

Her humanity was fractured, even more so than his own, she wouldn't even consider his thought process as an abnormality; she'd just accept it.

Really, it's almost sickening how much he'd secretly, unconsciously, been seeking wholehearted acceptance before Hariel came along. With Ryuk and Hariel, he doesn't have to pretend, and perhaps that makes him less human for it, but if that is the case, then Light is content with being something not wholly human.

Just as he is getting out his phone to send of a text, a knock rings out from the door, and Hariel's right there.

Light takes a moment to look to his father's face, but it houses no flash of panic, no wide eyes or pursed lips.

He doesn't know.

That throws Light for a loop, because if his father doesn't know that means L didn't tell him.

Was it because Hariel isn't Kira?

It's not a difficult thing to work out, her personality makes it a blatant given.

But, if that is the case, then L had just up and kidnapped Hariel with no legal backing.

And that's, wow.

It seems L is entirely willing to break societies rules too, if it means that he gets to win. Light's not particularly surprised by that, but he'd still held out the tiniest bit of hope.

But L, for all that he recognised by the law enforcement of the world, is honestly no better than Light. They're both breaking the rules, both hypocrites, neither of them are doing this with the world's best intentions at heart, not really.

This world is rotting.

 "Ah, Yagami-san? Light told me you were in hospital, so I brought a get well present?"

She seems a bit unsure, not if a present is appropriate, but if she has a right to give it.

Light answers before either L or his father can gather their wits, gesturing for Hariel to come inside.

She does so with the practiced ease of a woman who'd spent a fair bit of time in a hospital, quietly closing the door and depositing the basket of homemade goods upon the bedside cabinet.

Light can spot a variety of biscuits and cakes, both big and small, within the wicket basket. No doubt all pulled from the obscure space that only Hariel can access. If she were to disappear, would the things stored within that abyss cease to exist? Or, is it pure thought on Hariel's part that brings them into existence?

"Thank you," his father's states after a momentary pause of silent confusion.

If anything, L seems to be the most suspicious here.

In fact, he seems quite set on making an excellent impression of a  petulant child, given the way his lips are pursed in a pout. That is to say nothing on the way he looks at the Hariel's get well gift. There's clear suspicion in his eyes, but it's joined by a much more confusing blatant annoyance.

Why? Does L suspect her of being Kira?

No, that can't possibly be right, it's vociferous clear to anyone who has ever interacted with Hariel that she has no ambition, latent or otherwise. No, it seems almost as if L's current problem resolves only around the basket that Hariel has dropped off.

Confused, but certainly not planning to show it, Light plucks out one of the cookies -they're not identical, but each looks as delightfully appetising as the next- and takes a neat bite.

A muscle in L's cheek twitches.

His problem, is with the food?

Of course, the sweet treats that Hariel has pulled into existence aren't exactly the healthiest, but surely L doesn't believe that she'd try to harm his father through such a roundabout way, especially as it would take years to even begin to see some results.

He cannot serious believe that Hariel would try to blatantly poison them through confectionary, could he?

"I believe we should allow Chief Yagami some rest."

"I guess it would be better to talk outside."

Light understands the unspoken statement, that L has every intention of discussing things outside of this room, things that he would not share with Light's father. Perhaps because he has so clearly broken the law, evidentially without the approval of certified law enforcers, regarding his holding of Hariel.

So Light gives a slight nod, gesturing for Hariel to walk out of the door before him, following after L's sulking figure.

If he just so happens to be putting the being of immense power between himself and L, then it's simply a lucky happenstance and through no design of his own.

 

 

 

 

It's a strange thing, the three of them stood therein that corridor.

What a trio they make; L with his complete ignorance of social interactions and etiquette, Hariel so removed from humanity that she's grasping at straws in an attempt to rebuild herself, her ability to view and understand the world still in shattered shards.

And then, there is him.

Light is under no illusions, he knows he is not entirely normal. Someone who murders as many as he has cannot be.

He's not in any rush to label himself though.

All he knows is that most emotions seem muted to him.

When he sees the clear love shared between his parents and his sister, he knows that he doesn't quite feel the same thing, doesn't quite feel the same attachment. And it's not an after effect of using the Death Note for too long, it is just that the book's presence within his life has forced him to face uncomfortable questions that he had been avoiding for the vast majority of his life.

It's not easy to accept the fact that, if pushed to the right limit, he would sacrifice his family's happiness for his goals. He does not dare to consider if he would risk their lives, the implications of that answer leave him ill at ease.

Perhaps the most damning evidence that he is not quite right, is that he does not care for how his family would suffer when compared to just what this such a thing means for his state of mind. He knows that it is not right to centre all of his goals upon himself and to only ever consider his family as a wayside ideal, something to be acknowledged and looked after, but only if it did not get in the way of his plans.

Then, there are the two most interesting people he has ever met in his life, and they are perhaps just as fractional as he is.

Together, Light doubt they would even manage to drum up the morals of a complete, well rounded person. They do not even stand upon the same side; L is his opposition, and Hariel is removed from the game, a spectator untouched by every move they make. Perhaps that is why he feels so connected and yet, distanced from them at the same time.

In one case, it is L v Kira; two militant halves of a whole battle. The war that is necessary is just.

And make no mistake, this fight between both Kira and L is indeed needed.

The world is rotting, and while L might be happy enough to leave it be, to make no advancements and play by the status quo, Light cannot endorse such a thing. Not when he has the power to change it.

How would the world not have advanced, had the Romans not conquered the vast majority of Europe? How would the world have looked, had it never seen the British Empire expand across the four corners of the globe?

No, revolution was necessary for substantial change, and there was always someone who had to start it all off, to get the ball rolling.

Only, in this day and age, any force for such a radical change was frowned up, heavily. So, things had to be done in secrecy, to be implemented through guerrilla warfare tactics that left the enforces chasing after wisps of smoke.

Light had once read that there were three good reasons, three just reasons, with which a war was found to be warranted.

In the defence of others from aggressive attack, in self defence, and in the protection of innocent people from aggressive regimes.

The protection of the innocent.

Was that not what he was doing? Protecting all those who would suffer at the hands of these criminals, preventing future victims, cleaning up the world and implementing a new law?

The potential for good far outweighs the evil; the end justifies the means.

Perhaps it is not the same ideals that the majority of the populous would conform to, but it had been proven time and time again that the population rarely knew what was good for them. They were ignorant, walking around with rose tinted glasses pushed heavily upon their nose.

And he, well, he was enlightened to the darkness of the world, had been from a young age.

In the same way that he knew, if he'd been pushed wrong, had the wrong influence been exerted upon him in his tender years of development, he would probably have ended up as one of the psychos Kira cut down. Only, he would have been smart about it.

Perhaps he would have been what L is to the law enforcement of the world. Certainly he'd have been a match for the detective.

As it is though, right now, it is Kira against L, a battle for revolution against the stagnated state of the earth and its occupants.

Change would always happen.

Light was just fighting to be the one to implement it in this case.

Then, there is Hariel.

If Kira and L are America and Russia, locked in a cold war that both have acknowledged but remain incapable of turning live -for the moment- reduced to relying upon underhanded tactics and moves hidden within the shadows, then Hariel is Britain. Somewhat tentatively allied with one of the two, but not to the point in which she would swoop in and save the day.

No, Hariel was more than happy to sit back and watch with silent lips and emotionless eyes, though he doesn't doubt in the slightest that she will stop them both should too much innocent life be threatened.

Perhaps Britain was a bad analogy in this case. No, Hariel Potter was the rest of the world, waiting with baited breath, but with more power than either of them. Unwilling to step in, but just as loathed to see her ally crumble into a state of obliteration, to get lost in the battle and forget the purpose.

L has far more experience on this front, he was fought against crime for perhaps longer than Light has been in school.

It is only the supernatural element, it is only Hariel's distracting presence, that keeps them on even ground here.

 

 

Which is why, when the three of them look between one another, Light does not feel like the weakest link. He may have the least experience in these high risk games, but he has knowledge that L does not, in the same way he possesses an ambition that will forever escape Hariel.

"I see no point in ignoring the facts here," L begins, heavy lidded eyes lazily swinging from Light to Hariel and back again, "out of all the suspects, I am quite certain that Yagami Light is Kira. On that same strain, I am well aware that I have no evidence of such a thing yet, only suspicions."

Here, those soulless black eyes lock on Hariel's form, and L's lips quiver, as if he's not quite sure whether to smile or frown.

"I do have complete proof that you have willingly, and knowingly, lied to several governments though, and that you are not completely human."

A shiver runs down Light's spine, because to hear it said so bluntly, out in the open for all to acknowledge, is a strange thing indeed.

Hariel stares back at L, and she doesn't even flinch under the subtle implications L has left in his statement. That one word from him, and several countries would be gunning for her.

If the Master of Death gathers this, then she makes no indication of it, just blinking and cocking her head ever so slightly to a side.

"Had we met on any other case, I believe I would have quite enjoyed the puzzle you present, Miss Potter. As things stand though, I cannot allow myself to become distracted from the current situation, and as such, must only take into account  your relevance to the Kira case."

Here, L pauses for breath, looking between the two of them again.

The next time, as he speaks, it is once again to Hariel.

But he watches Light, with those sharp, inhuman eyes.

"I would quite like for you to join the task force dedicated to the capture of Kira, I believe you would offer a unique perspective upon all of these events, Miss Potter."

 

And yes, Light was not expecting that in the slightest. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, L was upset because he couldn't allow himself to have any of that basket of sweets; given what he's seen of Hariel so far, he'd put nothing past her.


	15. The Doubts of the Taskforce

 

 

 

"Eh? Ryuzaki? Who's this?"

Matsuda bumbles, there's no other word for it. How incredibly unfortunate that this is one of the very few he can come close to trusting within this investigation. What is that commonly used saying again?

Ah, yes, Matsuda's heart is in the right place.

It is a travesty that his brain seems to be missing. Along with whatever common sense he owns.   
No, Matsuda is incredibly inept and L could spend many a day lamenting over the general incompetence of all those he currently works with. Yagami Light is the only one with any significantly good traits of note, and that is far overshadowed by the fact the student is Kira.

Oh, L doesn't have the evidence yet, but he knows it. A deep sated certainty that sits within the pit of his stomach, a steady weight that refuses to be budged, even as the younger male seems to effortlessly skirt around each of his attempts to expose him.

Perhaps if he had better pieces in this game, he'd have solved the puzzle by now.

Misora from the case with Beyond was a perfect example of a good figure to move about. The only issue was that the woman had come with her own freewill. Her independence and high intellect had ruined the chase, and though the case had been solved, L had been left with a distinct feeling of dissatisfaction.

The case had been solved, but L still felt cheated by it.

He refused to see the Kira case end in the same way. And it would end, he would expose Yagami Light, the teen would receive the death penalty for mass murder, and L would find out just how he did it.   
Speaking of unnatural possibilities…

Hariel Potter walks into the hotel room behind him with wide green eyes, looking incredibly out of place.   
L had considered the possibility of her being Kira's assassin, and that wasn't something he could completely rule out now, no matter how low he believed the percentage to be. He had seen her melt metal without touch, without any indication of how she'd done it other than through some form of supernatural power.  
The teleportation, he didn't like to even think on that; the implausibility of it are irritating enough.  
There was the distinct impression that he hadn't seen all she could do either, so he would not put it past her to be in two places at once.

But, L had met killers before, killers of all different varieties.

Potter is a killer. She didn't do it for the kicks, for the thrills, for the adrenaline rush of being smarter than her opposition like the vast majority.

No, Potter's kill had been made in self defence. He can see the guilt that lingers upon her shoulders.

Though he cannot ignore the slight possibility, L knows she is not killing for Kira.   
Which only makes things even more irritating. So many potential answers, and there's no limiting factors now, it is as infuriating as it is exhilarating.

This will be his greatest case, he can feel it.

The Task Force that are present within the room are all staring in a painfully obvious manner at Potter, something L tries to put behind him as he seats himself.

It's a little harder to ignore when they fail to return to their duties, even more so when Matsuda repeats his question. As if L had been particularly hard of hearing and missed it, instead of what he'd actually done which was to purposely ignore it.

"Miss Potter is an expert on the supernatural and occult."

Stunned silence settles as L accepts a cup of tea from Watari, plucking up cubes of sugar and steadily dropping them one by one into the cup.

Yagami Light is currently off studying criminal psychology. L wonders how it feels to get an outside perspective into how Light's own mind works. Though doubtlessly Light's mind is a vast and grand thing, infinitely trickier than what any psychologist has ever dared to dream of. Still, it works in the same way, just a far more complex machine than what is standard issue.

"The what?! Did you just find this woman on the streets or something?! She doesn’t even want to be here!"   
Yes, it does appear as is Hariel Potter has no wish to be present, but then, given how she has appeared every single time L has been in her vicinity, she never seems to express much of an interest in anything.  
Nothing but Light, that is. Like a duckling imprinting upon the first thing it sees.

L makes a low noise in the back of his throat, letting it rattle about there for a moment in the hopes that it will be enough to settle the doubts of the Taskforce.

It is not.

And Hariel Potter is still stood waiting for instruction.

Must he do everything himself? Surely they cannot be so feckless as to fail in questioning her, in drawing their own conclusions. It's painfully obvious that the way in which Kira kills is unknown to them. So, he has brought someone qualified in the unknown onto the team.

Though why she has agreed to accompany him, L hasn't quite figured it out yet. She had not looked to Yagami for guidance, instead seemingly gazing at the empty space just above L's head before giving her consent.   
L is under no illusions that he could have forcibly brought her in, not after the last alteration between them.

"Regardless, Miss Potter is here, the reason will no doubt become clear in time."

Looking to the woman again, L gestures for her to take a seat upon the hotel's marginally acceptable sofa. It is not quite up to his standards like the armchair he perches upon, but it would do in a pinch. Now that he is looking for it, he can see the way her hair doesn’t quite follow the rules of physical force as every other substance in existence does, flowing around her head far too like water.

Something vibrates on a low frequency in his head, and L turns his gaze back to the Taskforce, though his attention remains upon Potter from the corner of his wide eyes. They still seem to insist upon the staring, with

Aizawa's face indicating a vicious storm is brewing.

This particular member does not like L, the detective is aware of that. He respects him and his work, that much is obvious.

But he's becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the way in which L conducts himself, how he has always conducted himself.

It is for this exact reason that he has not spoken of Potter's brief stay within his custody. While he was completely right, and the woman is most certainly more than she presented herself as, the rest of the Taskforce would be quite irritated in how he went about gathering evidence to support his theory. His correct theory.   
Regardless, as much as he prefers to disregard social etiquette, at this moment in time it is best to not cause significant strife between the Taskforce members.

"There was a moment when L thought I was Kira."

He decidedly does not shiver when Potter says his name, but it is a near thing. Unlike all those around him, all those but Watari, she does not say that single consonant awkwardly, as if it is just an alias he uses, to mask himself and shy away from the world.

Potter says that as if she knows it to be his actual name.

Those eyes, eyes about as emotionally reflective as his own, are particularly unsettling.

"He what?" Matsuda croaks, voice cracking in disbelief.

It is true that Potter looks nothing like a murderer, her features belong more upon the glossed pages of a magazine or the flickering silver screen. That face has no place within the regular world, certainly it is too distinctive an appearance for the greatest killer in known history.

"Mmm, after careful consideration I have concluded that the chances of Miss Potter being Kira are exceptionally lower than any other we have investigated within this case. Nevertheless it is perhaps in our best interest to keep her close." Eyes swing around to look at Potter with shrewd suspicion, who sits neatly atop the sofa, looking more like a visiting goddess that a regular human. It stupefies L how the rest of the Taskforce seem unable to comprehend just what is before them. Even before L was fully enlightened, he had still felt a vague sense of unease around the woman. While it was great to know his instincts were still in working order, it was near painful to have to acknowledge that those he is working with are apparently lacking them. 

"Wait, isn't er- Miss Potter friends with the Chief's son? Why have you let her stay near him?" Matsuda pauses in his stammering, shooting Potter an apologetic glance that no doubt goes straight over her head. 

"At the present moment, Yagami Light has the greatest chance of being Kira than anyone else in the world. Miss Potter's continued presence will have no effect upon such a thing." 

Though the question lingers in his mind, was Potter the one to gift Kira his impossible ability of mass killings from a distance? He knew she would answer if he asked, would probably just stare with eyes more unsettling than his own. 

"You think Light's Kira?" 

Potter's voice echoes through the room, though her words are spoken in a soft and thoughtful tone. 

Staring at this woman who makes the impossible possible, L feels his resolution cement itself within his mind, and he nods. 

"Yes." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short, but I wanted an L POV.


End file.
